The third downpour of the morning. Sheeting rainfall. Oppressive humidity. Enormous plants. Fierce hunters daubed in mud melting through the jungle…Woke up this morning to it, fell back asleep to it, and dreamed of the backyard flooded, a wood duck waddling. When I opened the window, having closed it to prevent the water from coming in, the duck flew away. But then there was another, red-headed with a long snaky tail. I opened the screen and the duck hopped up into the room, muddying the pillow. Scooping it up and turning it around so that it went back outside, I noticed one of the local mosquitoes, the black and white striped Cobble Hill Tigers, along the wall and tried to kill it with my palm. Suddenly, they were all over my hands, moving like roaches. Naturally, I woke up screaming.
Does one ever get too old to have a crush?