Eight legs with which to beat it
I found a spider in my bathtub.
helluva place for a spider to be,
in a bathtub.
he was smallish and thin,
this spider,
about the size of a fingernail.
big enough, though,
to bite me in the ass
given the opportunity.
and why not? what better
things has a spider to do?
why has he made his way up
to the second floor bathroom
if not to bite me in the ass?
he knows it and I know it
and somehow I respect him for it.
I look at this spider and I know
he is all about the fight.
but he doesn't know about me.
he can't fathom the human thought process
or the options it provides here.
I could stomp him flat -- problem solved.
but that wouldn't be very nice.
I could shoo him away,
except that he would come back
to exploit my weakness
and bite me you know where.
no, neither of those choices will do.
instead I grab a slim rectangle
of glossy cardboard paper from the trash bin,
the kind that falls out of a magazine.
I encourage the spider to climb on board
so that I can relocate him outside
in what passes for nature around here.
but he won't stay put,
won't stay on the card long enough
for me to get him to the open window.
he keeps coming at me
this arachnid-warrior.
he wants to bite me, sure as shit,
inject me full of his venom --
this is his instinct --
this is his right.
my instinct, now that we are doing battle,
is to fling him into the toilet,
flush him away as quick as I can --
which I do, my heart strangely quickened.
as the toilet recharges and quiets,
I stand and wonder about my decision.
will the spider survive his water flume ride
down into the subterranean world?
I don't see why not.
rats have been known to make the journey
in reverse order,
climbing up the pipes and out of the toilet bowl.
that's a fine howdy-do.
you hear about this sort of thing happening
in New York City tenements.
no question what I'd do there.
pack my bags and move to Topeka.
the rats win hands down.
there's a different kind of natural order
in New York City,
one that I'm ill-equipped to handle.
I'm thinking my spider is o.k.
and is already adjusting to his new spider life,
setting up house in a sewer pipe.
hell, I did what I could for him.
it seems that in the end
regarding spider relocation
somewhere between compassion and cruelty
is the flush.
but, I'll leave the ethics to the ethicists.
I'm going to have a hot bath.
11:12:47 AM  Poems
|
