The Pleasures of: Episode 11

Spiders

A large and black one turned up in the tub when I was showering recently; I flushed her down the drain but did not feel proud about it. There are only two spaces I claim for Only Me: The bathtub and my bed. You can be anywhere else, little spider, but if I were to just-so-casually stroll into your web you would murder me the same.

15 years old I spent my days wandering about the yard & reimagining it; also a series of stories about the beings dwelling therein and their adventures. Little elves or fairies called nemians lived out their fantastical lives in cities under the forsythia bushes, their capital in the willow tree. And once, their queen had to go on a journey to save the willow tree's soul, which led to the driveway through the basement and into the attic. In the basement she was aided by the King of the Spiders, who though terribly evil himself was enemy of the King of the Rats.

But just because you terrify me and even though you could sometimes melt my flesh with a bite does not mean I do not love you.

In Virginia you would find my grandparents' house in a plastic nightmare suburb, and in this place find spiders, desperate guerrillas, only last defenders of wilderness.

In Texas, this is my favorite, the spiders built a web together, commune, sprawling 200 yards which is more impressive than so many human cities.

And in the recess of my mind a spider, queen of all, sits a throne in her web and watches out with glowing red eyes, grinning, waiting, one day to ensnare me, devour a fly.