talking to ants
Carpet feels good on naked feet, squishy like mud but, well, without the mud. I was walking around on the carpet today, taking stock of the cats. They move, slick and graceful, then puddle themselves on the floor and eye me.The only thing to do was to put on some music for the troops. A little acid house socialism for the felines.
It was then that I noticed the ant on the sliding glass door, marching downward at a determined pace. I watched him, lowering my body to the floor as he tracked down the glass. His armor glinted, dressed in brown, as he examined a speck of dirt.
"Food?", i said to him through the glass.
He marched on, and it struck me... I'm talking to a fucking ant.
"I'm talking to an ant," I told the cats, but you know how cats are.
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