There's this life form in Roswell,NM...and it's a bug
I think. Can't see it but it's loud. up in the trees...so,
yea, and these bugs get together for saturday nite hoedown and when they sing you wonder where the chorus is, but it ain't there so you think it's a high voltage line singing but it's not. It sounds like this see....BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZYANAYANBZZZZZZZZZZZ. You wait around long enough, maybe 10 minutes and they stop..maybe for a breath, if they breath that is. You can't see "em. It"s mysterious.
I decided if it was just one bug with a big throat then it must be
calling for it's mate over in China maybe.
Then theres this bird and when it twills, you run answer your phone. only its not your phone. it's a bird. I had to answer my phone three times before I realized it's a bird. I had just moved here; every spot in America or the world has it's own unique style of nature inhabitants.
In Washington all I ever got was CAA!! CAAAAA!!!!!! Caca?
it was dem crows...and George, he was a grouch, he shouted to the crows SHUT UP!! He added some cuss words but they didn't listen. I didn't listen to george either. They were here before George.
The crows took the hard bread I threw down and dunked it into the bird waterer pedestal to soften it. How did they know to do this? I didn't tell them.
In Washington a coon sat on my counter top enjoying a light snack. The five of us all told it to hit the road, but it was enjoying the snack and didn't hear us until we danced around making threatening movements; it was tame and knew we bluffed and blustered all the while I hoped it would stay awhile. The coon daintily licked it's fingers then casually strolled out the door as if to say in my own good time I'll get out.
We had slug races in WA. The slugs were numerous and up to 5” long and a couple inches wide. They were black or brown, slimy and I wondered what their function was in nature except for sitting on my best multi colored Zalia and leaving a mere stem in it's wake. I collected them in beer dishes. They kill themselves with beer. Maybe it's the alcohol that does them in. Later I got some ducks then I didn't have buy so much beer.
In Roswell there's this thing crawls around looking
for dinner...and it's black, you can mistake it for a scorpion easily enough, has pinchers in front, look like scissors, yea, and hmmm, de call "em a vinaigrette monster, eats roaches. The roaches live in cracks under the cement. They"re bigger than they should be. A bug should be small and stay out of sight.
The centipede I'm saving for you I told my girls. It has been designed wrong. Nothing on Earth should have that many legs.
When he moves, he really moves. It's not step, cha cha cha, it's swoosh. Try sitting in your living room at midnight. There's no moon out. You live alone in a new town; You're a woman therefore entitled to several screams a year at the least. Suddenly you hear this strange scurry noise in the driveway. The night is still except for scurry scurry. It seemed necessary to investigate. I got out the flashlight. I was exploring NM for things I didn't learn in school. I spotted a fast moving creature fish-tailing it down my driveway. The sound of all those legs in the night stillness set up a panic in me.
Maybe I wasn't really afraid so much of something I'd never seen before which had too many legs for it's own good and made a racket looking for it's din din--maybe it was really that I was afraid of living here and not knowing anyone and so I took my fears out on a creature.
One day I had just up and flew here. To write a book. To be totally alone to concentrate on it. It had seemed a little crazy to leave my girls and do this thing, they were 1,000 miles away.
I chased the centipede down my driveway with bug spray only he was bigger than a bug so it took allot of spraying. Alot. I'm sorry I killed it and I'm sorry it didn't want to die. I got carried away. A friend yelled at me later to learn I had done this disastardly deed. The neighbors told me centipedes do bite and it can be painful; they didn't care how many I killed, but there was just this one, in the dead of night sounding like a saw blade on my cement and I was wondering who I was and where I was and what was on my plate and whether Murphy's Law was always going to be in my life so I killed a centipede then I always remembered that I killed it and it hadn't done me any harm so I must be an ass. The others I saw later, we just walked on by each other saying if you leave me alone, I'll leave you alone.
You just had to be there, that's all.
