Monday, April 29, 2013

Crane Fly

On a summer night when it's warm enough to keep the windows open, I let the night air waft in from places both near and far: places that I'll probably never have the occasion to visit. Air that's been curling through the apartment of my impossibly handsome next-door neighbor, smelling of tobacco smoke and the heady perfume of his latest sexual conquest, momentarily decorates my chaste apartment with the undertones of a well-enjoyed life.

Through the open window, a particularly playful breeze accentuated by the post-coital chitterings of the couple next-door blows a crane fly into my apartment. Despite its menacing form the crane fly is an innocuous creature made mostly of negative space. The wind tickles the wings of the less than adroit flyer causing the insect to tumble in the air. I wonder how such a beast with such lovely, elegant limbs can be so graceless. When the crane fly escapes the current and regains its bearings, it flutters to the far wall and clings to the uneven paint with with quivering legs.

The cat and I stare at the fly on the wall with differing intentions. Unlike the cat, I know that the crane fly has spent the majority of its life in its formative years as a grotesque grub, a lawn pest gorging itself underground on grass roots, and it emerged fairly recently as this harmlessly delicate creature. I know that it will only live long enough in its adult form to mate, and amidst the subtle scent of sex I wonder if it has done so already. The cat, having stared long enough, leaps up to bat the bug with a swift paw. The crane fly narrowly escapes and takes to the air like a feather on the wind. In a bit of panic, I stand up to rescue it from the cat and certain doom. So with as much dexterity granted to a human female I attempt to capture the fluttering bug between my cupped hands, but my heart sinks when my left meets my right.

My small hands failed to wrap around the entirety of the creature. I see a part of a crumpled wing and the end of a thin leg poking out between the seal of my hands. I open my hands to find the crane fly alive and shuddering, skittering on my open palm. Despite my good intentions the crane fly is as good as dead: some things are just fragile like that. It beats its mangled wings and goes nowhere.

The cat looks up at me with wide eyes of approval and gently paws my knee expectantly. I drop the crane fly, and it floats down to meet its swift deliverance. I watch as the cat snacks on the delicate morsel, and when I start to hear the escalating sounds of round two from next-door, I close the window.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

20130416: shorts, fight, printer, rash, monster, worry, ant

I fight with my printer more often than I should considering it does more for me than my piss-ant boyfriend ever did, and I hardly ever sounded a complaint about him. But was I monster for the way I sent him packing? I wonder if it was a rash decision considering I'm at the age now where I worry for myself that my shorts are too short.

To the list of other pieces inspired by random words.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

20130413: swimming, snail, lido, sled, bandage, stamina, justice, chimney

The day after Christmas you'll find him at the lido, but he won't be swimming. Floating on his back, his frosty white beard spreads out on the surface of the water like a thousand thin tentacles. The water wraps around him like a soothing bandage cooling the friction burns from shimmying down chimneys. Time seems to crawl at a snail's pace as he wonders if there really is any justice and meaning in in his work. He'll float on, recuperating his mental stamina until it's time again to hitch his sled.

To the list of other pieces inspired by random words.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

20130411: advertising, chess, rain

You're advertising
that you play chess in the rain.
Have a match with me.

To the list of other pieces inspired by random words.