Type: Philosophical/Journal
We Are the Ant Men
I took a broken end of a broom handle and jabbed it into the plumb black spider I had cornered in a stucco well.
It died on initial impact. No one’s suffering had to linger.
I wiped its crumpled body across the concrete and tried to see if I could still recognize any observable parts. The spider was not so plump as before, but still leggy.
I returned to the flower beds for a moment to see if any other creature had decided to come out to view my weeding. When I sat back on my haunches again, the remains of the spider had attracted interest from the steady ant stream along the concrete alleys.