Ode to Poley

Such a gorgeous night, and I had time to kill. I parked it on a bench while waiting for Michael’s fried chicken to fry. I don’t treat myself to it too often, sometimes it makes me sick. I had a craving. I walked down to the corner to fill it.

While admiring the night air, and the time to myself, I felt a tickle in the arch of my sandaled foot. Startled, I looked down to find, to my dismay (horror, more appropriately), a June bug crawling between my foot and my shoe. Apparently he didn’t realize it was May. I screeched, jumped up from the peach clad bench that adorns Cesar Chavez street…and sent the June bug flying into the street.

I still had 10 minutes until chicken time, so with my legs now tucked underneath me…I watched that damn bug.

It would walk, then stumble, flip over on it’s back, the flip back like some sort of bad dance move. It was about this time that I wondered about the purpose of life, and more importantly the purpose of its life. Did he have a destination? Was he looking for a rogue ant to feast on? It was steadily crossing the road…and about half way across, and several near misses, from passerby vehicles, I wondered if he knew he could fly.

He reached a filled in pot hole, and I decided to name him. Poley, for Rolley Poley. I admired his enthusiasm…his determination, akin to the chicken…who just wanted to get to the other side.

I finished my cigarette…threw it as close as I could to him, but never fazed him. Then I saw it coming. He had been just out of reach of the scuttle of traffic thus far, but he had just crossed into the kill zone, and an SUV rounded the corner with his name on it.

CRUNCH.

I sighed. Realizing life really was so short. I got up, and went to pick up the chicken that never made it across either…