As I walked with a friend through Low Gap Park yesterday, I felt a sudden, sharp pain on my left hand. And I looked down to note a yellow jacket biting and stinging all at once, just trying with all it’s infinitesimal might to take down the colossal human.
I snapped my wrist once, and it was still latched on tight. I felt the stinger pierce deeper. I snapped it a few frantic times in succession and managed to shake it loose, probably flinging it hard to the ground and knocking it woozy.
These little demons need no provocation. My hand still hurts. My whole left arm has been itching as if from poison oak, though that’s beginning to dissipate. What motivates these creatures???
Little Bastards
Black and yellow
like hazard signs
or street-side urgings
they whiz past a
compressed package of
flying road rage
They masquerade as
relatively gentle bees
but instead of nectar
they work at flesh
armored scavengers
of rotting meat
They fill their wings with
wild sounds of wrath
every sidewound motion
a burst of vitriol
twisted little words intent
on intimidation
And when you fail to
flail dance and run
they find a quiet spot
grip with six stout legs
and send their hateful venom
throughout your veins
