Goodbye little dead cicadas on the sidewalk.
It makes me sad when I see you laying on your backs kicking your legs around, exerting the last energy of your life.
It makes me sad.
The birds are feasting on your carcasses with gluttonous abandon.
The rain is washing your wings into the gutter.
The pedestrians are tired of stepping on you, and the motorists are frustrated that you leave a mess when you die on their windshields.
The world is tired of hearing about you.
In a few weeks you will be forgotten.
In a few weeks, maybe I will forget some other things too.
Maybe I will forget how alone I felt, trying to sleep on Monday night.
Maybe I will forget how big I grinned last night as I was driving around listening to Helmet.
Maybe I will forget how long it takes to know someone. How long does it take before I figure out their lies? What about my own lies?
How long before I molt from my protective shell?
After you crawl out of the shell, and open your wings, its only so long before you're dead on the sidewalk, wings washing away into the gutter.
ed [email] said at 9:30 PM 06-14-2004: You have no idea how gratifying your response was. Seriously. I've got the big SEG on right now. The fact that my fellow pun-master appreciates my work is supahcool.
manbeef [email] said at 11:55 AM 06-12-2004: walking around a few days ago, i saw several cicadas die naturally, which was the saddest for me. they fall through the air, with their backs to the ground and their wings still flapping, like somebody who falls out of a building in the movies.
jeremy [email] said at 2:16 PM 06-12-2004: if it makes you feel any better I had an almost Vonnegutian dream the other night. All of the birds that have been feasting on cicadas got too fat to fly, and all of the cats ate them.
