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jungle boogie
Dear Neighbors,
Obviously I can't mow the yard. It's gonna rain. It's always gonna rain some time, too. But today it's gray/grey and thick and quiet except for that subtle tinnitus-like screetch of whatever insects do that stringy buzz, and a chirp here or there, and it's perpetually threatening to rain.
Of course I'm not just talking about the weather here, fellow residents of The Lower Marlborough Whatever The Hell We Call Ourselves Again I Forget.
Anyway, you really don't have to think of me as part of your street, the way I'm a-kilter down here set back from the corner and all. I could almost be the abandoned old farmhouse in the field that gives the neighborhood character.
From these windows I can see more of the lay of the block than any of you can from yours.
Death, death, death, death, death. With a barely-moving tangle of moist verdant background-buzz life all around---all around its head---about to burst forth with who-knows-what, or more nothing.
Obviously I can't mow the yard. It's gonna rain. It's always gonna rain some time, too. But today it's gray/grey and thick and quiet except for that subtle tinnitus-like screetch of whatever insects do that stringy buzz, and a chirp here or there, and it's perpetually threatening to rain.
Of course I'm not just talking about the weather here, fellow residents of The Lower Marlborough Whatever The Hell We Call Ourselves Again I Forget.
Anyway, you really don't have to think of me as part of your street, the way I'm a-kilter down here set back from the corner and all. I could almost be the abandoned old farmhouse in the field that gives the neighborhood character.
From these windows I can see more of the lay of the block than any of you can from yours.
Death, death, death, death, death. With a barely-moving tangle of moist verdant background-buzz life all around---all around its head---about to burst forth with who-knows-what, or more nothing.
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Loud buggers, but you hardly ever see them, except dead after they've mated. This summer, down at NARAM, one landed on my brother's back. Someone said "there's a HUGE bug on your back!" I walked behind him and said "it's a cicada," which was a relief for Bob, knowing it's harmless. It actually started vibrating right there, and was getting loud, and then flew off. Come to think of it, that's the only time I've ever seen one buzz in person.
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i'm withdrawing a bit, in case you couldn't tell. muster the gumption to do what takin' care o' bidness must get done.