Good morning! I'm glad you came to visit. Six months ago I started sharing. I'm amazed I possessed this much to say.
Monday, I felt like Little Miss Muffet. I wasn't sitting on a tuffet, just my over-stuffed chair. I wasn't snacking on curds, just resting after a long day in the garden. But I did hear a spider drop down beside me on his spider rope. He didn't scare me away, I just carefully smashed him between two slippers. You didn't know I hear spiders, did you?
Then, yesterday, I walked up to my car to retrieve something out of the back seat. As I looked inside and before I opened the door, I saw a BIG black, furry spider on the seat. I was ready for this. I carefully, quietly opened the back door to smash it. But, of course, you know what happened. It disappeared forever down the seat belt hole. Well, it better be forever! You know what women usually do when they see a spider.
Now is the appropriate time to share with you the one and only poem I ever wrote. Now, remember, I do not like poems and I do not write poems that rhyme, but when you are inspired by your own true experience, what do you do?
Fear on the Freeway
A spider is in your car, the dread of every woman,
especially when she is driving – driving alone.
Keep your wits about you, your eyes on the road.
Watch the traffic, watch the spider.
It’s crawling on your windshield, on the driver’s side.
You ask out loud, “Inside or out?” You pray it’s on the outside.
You turn on the wipers. Spider is still there.
It is black and fuzzy, and won’t stand still.
You pray, “Lord, make it stand still!”
But it crawls back and forth in your line of vision.
You must watch for curves in the road,
But the spider is more important.
You must make a decision, and make it fast!
There’s a wide shoulder. Signal and pull over.
The spider is still moving. Stop the car.
You need a soft napkin. No such luck, only stiff paper.
It will have to do. It doesn’t. It only knocks it down.
The big, black spider falls on your lap. You scream, as only girls can scream.
You grab at it one more time. You get it. Squash it! Smash it!
Squeeze it in the paper. It will never crawl again.
Copyright © May 15, 2010