I desire kitten heads and pink Cadillacs.

I watched a lone spider working away at its
web, the other night at the Goose's house.
I'd stepped out back to escape his smoke-free
environment. The spider's legs were caught in
silouette, just in front of a halogen set up
on the roof of an awning. A large speciman, with
waving spindles.

Head tilted back, I watched. Cigarette smoking
forgotten and blue grey in the post midnight air.
I began to spot silver lines of webwork all over
the porch. Here and there, you could only see
them from the corner of your eye. And then,
only when the light was hitting it correctly.
They weren't real. Neither was I. Everywhere and
no where, all at once.

The spider waved his legs at me and I smiled,
whispering under my breath to him. I finished
smoking my cigarette, then went back into the
house.