Children play a game where someone lives & someone dies. From inside it looks real. I never understood blaming the coyote for eating the cat or poisoning wasps or setting traps for fear Last night I caught a honeybee in a jar & watched it die. Poison for pleasure or maybe poison your pleasure. Something still tells me to close my umbrella inside, something says swat. I have scars from my last speculation, when cold water failed, when blood replaced lipstick. Indomitable, you said. Abominable, a bomb in a bowl under the bed.