Sunday, August 23, 2009
SPIDER ON THE CEILING
By Philip Cairns
Copyright 2009 by Philip Cairns
By Philip Cairns
Copyright 2009 by Philip Cairns
The spider is acting crazy.
He shoots down from the ceiling on his invisible thread,
Dangles for a minute,
His arms flailing like a daredevil,
Then scurries back up to the white ceiling.
He does this, repeatedly.
Maybe the heat of the light,
Sticking out from the wall,
Looking like a 19th Century streetlamp,
Frightens him away.
I wish I knew what this spider wanted to do.
Sometimes, the tiny brown thing hangs from the ceiling above my stove,
Curled up and snug,
Sleeping the night away.
Cooking brunch awakens him
And he zips away in terror to the safety of the grease-stained wall.
I try to reassure him.
My soothing tones seem to calm the little sweetie.
“Don’t worry. I won’t kill you.”
You see, I love spiders.
In fact, I adore them.
They bring me luck.
They’re glorious, beautiful creatures.
At my doctor’s office,
The receptionist started screaming.
“Ahh!!! A spider! A spider!”
I begged her not to kill the cute wee thing.
“They’re good luck,” I said.
This slightly strange looking woman didn’t believe me.
The terrified creepy-crawly soon disappeared.
Once, I had a pet spider.
It liked to hang around above my stove, as well.
Late one morning, I sat down to eat my fried eggs.
As I cut into the food, the poor, dead darling suddenly appeared on my plate,
Hiding underneath the eggs.
It made me sad.
What a waste of good food!
This one keeps acting wild,
Going up and down the thread, again and again,
With its thin arms waving and flapping about.
I can’t read its mind or suss out the vibes.
Maybe it’s pissed off about something.
I just hope it doesn’t die.
Perhaps Percy is old and has dementia
And doesn’t know what he’s doing.
Could it be having a nervous breakdown?
I hope it isn’t hungry.
A fruit fly buzzed around it but Mr. Spider totally ignored him.
This many-legged thing crawled across the corner of my large acrylic landscape painting.
I guess this creature has no taste for art.
He shoots down from the ceiling on his invisible thread,
Dangles for a minute,
His arms flailing like a daredevil,
Then scurries back up to the white ceiling.
He does this, repeatedly.
Maybe the heat of the light,
Sticking out from the wall,
Looking like a 19th Century streetlamp,
Frightens him away.
I wish I knew what this spider wanted to do.
Sometimes, the tiny brown thing hangs from the ceiling above my stove,
Curled up and snug,
Sleeping the night away.
Cooking brunch awakens him
And he zips away in terror to the safety of the grease-stained wall.
I try to reassure him.
My soothing tones seem to calm the little sweetie.
“Don’t worry. I won’t kill you.”
You see, I love spiders.
In fact, I adore them.
They bring me luck.
They’re glorious, beautiful creatures.
At my doctor’s office,
The receptionist started screaming.
“Ahh!!! A spider! A spider!”
I begged her not to kill the cute wee thing.
“They’re good luck,” I said.
This slightly strange looking woman didn’t believe me.
The terrified creepy-crawly soon disappeared.
Once, I had a pet spider.
It liked to hang around above my stove, as well.
Late one morning, I sat down to eat my fried eggs.
As I cut into the food, the poor, dead darling suddenly appeared on my plate,
Hiding underneath the eggs.
It made me sad.
What a waste of good food!
This one keeps acting wild,
Going up and down the thread, again and again,
With its thin arms waving and flapping about.
I can’t read its mind or suss out the vibes.
Maybe it’s pissed off about something.
I just hope it doesn’t die.
Perhaps Percy is old and has dementia
And doesn’t know what he’s doing.
Could it be having a nervous breakdown?
I hope it isn’t hungry.
A fruit fly buzzed around it but Mr. Spider totally ignored him.
This many-legged thing crawled across the corner of my large acrylic landscape painting.
I guess this creature has no taste for art.
Maybe it wants to mate.
My brother once watched a film in which a baboon in heat,
Running around in a frenzy,
Screwed everything in sight.
After each encounter, it would throw the male off its back
And run to the next partner.
Perhaps my cute pal is merely horny.
The up and down frenzy continues.
Yes, I truly believe this spider may be nuts.
Now, it’s morning.
My delightful little room-mate is all curled up in a ball,
Once again hugging the ceiling.
It hasn’t moved for hours.
Methinks it’s snoring away.
I didn’t know that spiders ever slept.
My brother once watched a film in which a baboon in heat,
Running around in a frenzy,
Screwed everything in sight.
After each encounter, it would throw the male off its back
And run to the next partner.
Perhaps my cute pal is merely horny.
The up and down frenzy continues.
Yes, I truly believe this spider may be nuts.
Now, it’s morning.
My delightful little room-mate is all curled up in a ball,
Once again hugging the ceiling.
It hasn’t moved for hours.
Methinks it’s snoring away.
I didn’t know that spiders ever slept.
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