In fact, many species kill without need, not for protection, but for some kind of primitive pleasure and to satisfy a mindless, formless desire. It’s not just we the flat-toothed and clawless with our cumbersome clothing and disturbing knack for efficiency where it’s needed least. Making the sound of a wet drum, an elephant tramples a strange smelling calf. A black widow eats her knobby, poisonless mate. Dingos eat their own babies. As do those hungry hungry hippos. Even pigs are happy to eat bacon, though that’s unfair… the pig with a mouth full of pork jowl didn’t slaughter his pink, squealing doppelganger, just ate what remained without tasting anything funny. It’s we who anticipate. It’s we who hear the satisfying click of the belt buckle when we strap the car seat in for a ride into the river. It’s we who drive slowly down the wrong streets with a gat and a gleam. It’s me who lies back in the garbage-bag lined bath– having thought every angle through so often there’s no thinking left, just a groove worn of mental pacing– carefully drawing the new curtain completely closed.
[pad 4.16 - 7/8/09]
