The dark of winter, the nearing of the full moon. The naughty stress buckling into habits taken up and laid down time and time again and it all happens on the porch. And out there, on that porch, they gather as the air chills, and the river in the sky swirls all around. On a raffia rug, the largest and danciest cricket of mass proportion. He sways and rubs and sways and rubs. Not trippin at all that I am close, staring into his eye(s?). What a snappy dude. He's got the sky box. Below on the mezzanine, two big ol bananas, one extraordinarily large, hugs the railing beam. It had spent an hour earlier sniffing into the coconut water can and old coffee cup. A rare paper one. The other makes its way up towards its larger friend. A moth or two swirl, and you can feel the mother spiders getting their game on.
Salutations, all. I head to bed. And there what do I find? Oh yes, the larger model of the glassy black, a satiny mama creature. About two inches across, impressive. How she got in I have no idea. I tell her I'm just gonna take her outside, grab the ball jar, but she runs mid-cover, and without two of her legs. She runs. Deep into the blankets on the floor. And there is one of her legs, attached to the wall. My heart breaks. We were all having such a good time, and snap- just like that, party is over. I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry.
Eight hours pass. And she is nowhere to be found in the morning. She must have gotten sucked into the ether. Perhaps she did. That would be glorious, but strange, and how... how did she make off with a set of legs missing? It's that survival.