Saturday, August 07, 2004


These summer nights as we sit talking after dinner at the kitchen table and have forgotten to turn off the light over the sink in front of the big window on the garden, our post-dinner conversation is punctuated with big B-O-N-N-G-G-GS as the zany cicadas and other large bugs zooming around out there looking for a big date in what should be darkness are thrown off-track by the sudden Las Vegas that is our kitchen, certainly the flashiest thing in this neck of the woods.

Not surprisingly, they turn and head straight for the bright lights and hit the window B-O-N-N-G-G-G, which leads to big buglife headaches and major changes in fortune, like a very fast night at the slots; every other sentence there's a B-O-N-N-G-G-G and some poor love-hungry bug staggerwings off into the darkness shaking its head, until one of us realizes the light is on and goes and turns it off so the poor things can fly about their actual business, perhaps find true love in the native darkness and we can have a naturally punctuated conversation. The bugs don't miss the bright lights; not one of them insists at the dark window, or says: Hey, where'd Vegas go?


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