Life stamps

LifeA black crab,just claws and eyes, watches mefrom a culvert. I’ve seen himbefore as a Martian in an old BugsBunny cartoon so I’m not scared.A cow-flap on the road next to the canal is thecolor of a soft, suede boot and collapsedinto the shape off a plumber’s helper.Some kids have placed two frappe strawsupright in the repugnance.Beam, who is four, is trying to flip overa flat-screen TV-size piece ofplywood in the yard. I help her onlyto see the bottom is alive with antsdriven crazy with the Thai heat. Theylook like static. I’ve seen this before, too,but a long time ago. I look at Beamand say, “The station’s off the air,” andlet it fall back.At night we leave the light on overthe kitchen sink. A quintet of geckos,defying gravity, show their soft bellies to me.They are stock still, waiting on the outsideof the screen for bugs with Magoo-ish eye sightto ride the poetic river of night airinto their manly jaws.It’s late,I could turn the light off, but I know I won’t.I need to look; I need to see. FG 2010 All rights reserved by Forrest Greenwood