1. False GodsI’m terrified of the onein my kitchen. It’s as long as my index finger,& two thumbs wide—so big, soalive with its bigness, that I can’t imagineputting my foot on top & pressing—any more than I could imaginepressing downon a hummingbird or newborn kitten.I’m screaming &waving my hands, but it doesn’t move. Then, slow& steady, it starts to walk toward me. I’m yelling,“You dumb ass, you stupid mother fucker.” I’m sobig, sopowerful, I can’t believeit won’tobey me! “Ok,” I say, this timewith assurance, “You better notgo in my bedroom,” but it does the very thingI told it notto do, heads straightdown the hall, through my door & climbs upon the heaterbeside my bed. (Imagineme trying to sleep & feelingthat slight trembleon my lips!) I grab the heater& carry it, carefully (I don’t want to hurtit when it falls!), out the front doorto the porch, begging, “Please, go hometo your own people.” But it holds on,as if it doesn’t want to leave.Later, as I’m drifting off,I hear the long soft clickingsof a chorusoutside my window & I wonderif it brought backa bunch of its friendsto serenade me to sleep. 2. Why the giant palmetto bugs in New Orleans run towardyou when you are screaming at them to go awayThey have a hard thingon the top of their head that sticks outlike the bill of a baseball cap (but pointy),so they can’tlook up; theyonly see the ground & don’t knowyou’re screaming & wavingyour hands. They only seeyour foot & they imagineits cool shadow: what a good placeto hide, they say.