sunnudagur, janúar 14, 2007

fangi

Rattle, crash, and now each of us is a bit of a fix.

I do not want to make matters worse by writing something about how a piece of the wild winter's night has paid me a visit this graying dawn or anything like that. The burgler's mask. The twitching black nose. Et cetera. It seems disrespectful. No wild animal is ever a cliché, not even when it is only a raccoon that has crawled through the disused heating ducts like a thousand thousand raccoons before him only to lumber into a peanut-butter-baited Hav-A-Hart trap. (Which explains the fix that you are in.)

I will try to address you without falling into any of the obvious traps myself:

Hello. Sorry about that. And I'd like to say that I admire how you have carefully placed your triangular snout just in the corner where the slanting door of the trap meets the floor. I wonder if you find the geometry soothing.

1 ummæli:

Alizarin sagði...

Hello yourself.
This is awkward, to say the least.
This isn't where I expected
the ducts to open up ...
I had planned to find a dark kitchen floor, ideally behind the refrigerator.
Ambitiously, I had hoped to get away with
a box of corn flakes,
a stick of butter,
or as much of your garbage as I could fit in my mouth.
Now I'm in this box, learning how prisoners feel.
Do you have any more peanut butter?

 
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