the black spider in the shower is mocking me
his web dangerously close to my face
I take my towel and crush the spider against the wall
until I hear his pitiful back break
he falls unceremoniously to the shower floor
then passes like an afterthought down the drain.
my arm, although tiring, now swats mosquitoes furiously
before they have a chance to suck my blood dry
until my bathroom is free from swarming insects
whatever problems I have in the outside world
there is no doubt who is king of the bathroom
I towel myself off with a swagger
half-hoping more insects will challenge me
the caveman-warrior.
suddenly
overwhelming guilt and shame enters my world
have I upset the delicate balance of nature?
are my thoughtless murders symbolic proof
that the world as I know it is gone forever?
is all life diminished with my killing of living things?
the Darwinian theory of survival of the fittest gives me no balm or comfort
my dastardly acts surely put red assed baboons
one step ahead of me in the chain of life
I am living proof of creeping genocide.
my mind flashes back to other times I have killed insects
slaughtering thousands of them with impunity
until today the primeval drums can no longer be ignored
then just as quickly, a remarkable calm comes over me
as I think
“They’re only fucking insects?”