do you think that if there happens to be a spider on your stand-up showers ceiling for your morning cleansing that you begin to throw water at but change your mind and instead let it sit there and spin it's web that it knows you have spared her? that maybe it ponders the reasons why? and when at midnight you get home from work & it is still on your ceiling pirouetting it's web and you show it your fingertips and how capable you are of murder but instead whisper "hi" and tell her it's okay to spin and spin do you think she can understand you? when you fill your mouth up with the water and spit it back and kiss the drops and dance in circles while you watch all of it's hands or legs sewing the invisible thread in the air gracefully while you talk out loud to it about your childhood do you think it knows the damage you can do? but won't? does it know pretty? can it cry? are all spiders female? like charlotte? may i call you charlotte? may i call you dove?
do you think there are people in the world whose eyes can tell a whole story? a whole worlds worth of stories?
the taller boy said to me, "why are you eavesdropping?"
and i said, "i listen. that's what i do, i just always listen"
and he says nothing.
he has nothing to say.
i think of the spider.
there are mice, in the ceiling, i tell the spider.
there are white mice in the ceiling.
this could be a story, if i wrote it, but i won't and the lazy world nods it's head in agreement and the people say okay, fine, though we're not okay without you and i think, i am okay without me and it's cold outside but i can't feel it, or rather, i don't mind.
i told the spider i knew about spinning webs and i knew about her stories and she stopped moving so i knew she heard me.
i knew she heard me. right ?