Crickets

by Jason Nelson

Below fields of summer corn and winter wheat, in the northern plains

of South Dakota, just a few miles north of a red and white and blue silo

painted more for high school love than patriotism, there are insects. There

might be insects living elsewhere on this spiraling globe. There might be

insects building nests and hives and cocoons in the Amish barns of western

Ohio, and queens squeezing millions of white rice children into the wood of

Texas row housing. There might even be small critters chewing away on the

coarse and tastee hair of our eyebrows. But you, we and I, all of us

frankly, should always remember, there are insects under this quarter

section plot of farm land in the northern plains of South Dakota. They

aren’t very hungry. They will move some dirt around and soon after they’ll

get laid and have kids. These insects, living a few feet beneath the

surface of the dark brown loam a few states away, are nothing special. I

just thought you should know where they live, just in case you get lonely

and need some company. You know, just in case.

“Casual Sex”