A cockroach alone and quiet,

with a mangled leg and

busy antennas scanning the

immediate perimeter,

is a welcome sight to a lonely smoker

performing a Kevorkianesque task

within the confines of his back yard.

The cockroach snubbed my presence

and while visions of

Kafka's metamorphosis

resurfaced in my mind,

she persistently performed her duty

oblivious to the clouds of smoke

touching her antennas.

I finished my cigarette and decided to come back inside.

She started running when she detected my presence.

I did not bother to chase her.

 

Fivos R Drymiotis 10/3/2005