Next to my driveway is a utility pole that has for years housed a carpenter bee condominium. Though we know one another, we've not yet learned to communicate.
We're working on it.
And they fascinate me. I stand there staring at them. I do this a lot.
This afternoon I'm standing there staring as a cicada rambles into view. Compared to the bees, it's the insect aeronautical equivalent of a big dumb dog. It almost collides with one of the bees, saved only by the bee's maneuverability.
I hear this conversation.
Joe: "WTF was that‽ Stan, you saw it? It just flew right through my flight path, if you call that flying. Jeez!"
Stan: "Cicadas, Joe, they're called cicadas. How do you not know this? ...been asleep for two weeks? Are you deaf?"
Joe: "Huh?"
Stan: "The Noise?"
Joe: "...damn near took my head off. Oh! That's them?"
Stan: "Yeah. They've been underground for like 17 years. They started coming out last week. ...billions of them. For 4 weeks all they do is drink, fuck, and lay eggs."
Joe: "No shit?"
Stan: "I shit you not. Joe, how do you not know this? It's been in the news for 6 months."
Joe: "That's kinda why I'm here. I stopped getting the paper. ...went off the grid about a year ago. ...pot farm in the western suburbs. I'm tired of that shit."
Joe divebombs to the bottom of the pole, Stan follows suit.
Joe: "They're kinda cool, like prehistoric, or alien."
Stan,: "Yeah. But you're right. They can't fly for shit."
