Crickets
by Jason Nelson
Below fields of summer corn and winter wheat, in the northern plains
of South Dakota, just a few miles north of a red and white and blue silo
painted more for high school love than patriotism, there are insects. There
might be insects living elsewhere on this spiraling globe. There might be
insects building nests and hives and cocoons in the Amish barns of western
Ohio, and queens squeezing millions of white rice children into the wood of
Texas row housing. There might even be small critters chewing away on the
coarse and tastee hair of our eyebrows. But you, we and I, all of us
frankly, should always remember, there are insects under this quarter
section plot of farm land in the northern plains of South Dakota. They
aren’t very hungry. They will move some dirt around and soon after they’ll
get laid and have kids. These insects, living a few feet beneath the
surface of the dark brown loam a few states away, are nothing special. I
just thought you should know where they live, just in case you get lonely
and need some company. You know, just in case.
“Casual Sex”