Skitter Skitter Bang bang

Image: Pixabay

They were speaking, in different languages.

They were mumbling, murmuring, rumbling.

I merely skittered around on the floor, trying to avoid the thunder of tree trunks falling everywhere, to the pulse of ambient sound. Every so often someone would scream, and I would giggle, and flutter a little, scatter some hairs – clear some floor space. The thunder of legs would increase for a brief time, and I would dart and weave as five branched hands come down with rolled newspapers, plates, even fruits.

Until I skitter to a person’s pant leg, and hide between the sock and pant hem.

Wait until they give up, and I’m warmed again by the cotton and skin.

Then I run up the leg, digging my hairs in, and enjoy the entire process all over again.

In all my days as a cockroach, I’ve never been caught in my fun.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s