El grillo is an annoying bug. But one of the better known. Here, they sneak into my house, and chirp to me from some corner. Where is it? I don’t take the time to search. For, how would I catch it? Would it matter if I put it back outside?

I’m not afraid of bugs, unless they burrow beneath skin to sip blood – ticks I’m lookin’ at you. A favorite memory is standing in the doorway, a beer in one hand. My sister was with me. Of what were we laughing? The alcohol steals that part.

But suddenly, a cicada, or June bug wants to come in. They fly right towards your face, right inside for your light. I smacked it down from the air, knocking it back into the darkness. It scared my sister, who never sees fliers quite so large in Minnesota. The beer can’t erase how hard we laughed after that.

It’s just a bug! Anyone could do that! Yes, you could. But is it just a bug? Or does it have a deeper meaning? Does that creature wish to bring you a venom, or simply need some warmth?

Damnit, there’s that cricket again, mocking and yelling at me from outside of my vision. I would not slap him away. Because, really, maybe he’s just lost.

I don’t mind the crickets. In fact, I think, they just may have something more important to say. And when there’s no one else in the kitchen, the cry of a bug can be quite reassuring.

P.S. I told y’all it would be a trip. But I think some of you aren’t quite buckled in.

2 thoughts on “Crickets”

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