I, coyote

It was getting dark. He was prowling east down the south side of O’Farrell, coming toward me as I was heading home. It was nearing dusk, and when I saw him a light bulb went on above my head, as if I had suddenly received a brilliant idea from out of nowhere, and in fact I did.

Like Wile E. Coyote, I thought this time I’ll get him. And like the Roadrunner, he foiled my plans without even seeming to try- as if it was nothing more than nature and the natural course of things which undid my elaborate, smart scheme. Mocking me, really, as he has for years now with his horrible, singular form of torture.

I’ve wanted to capture his face for so long now it seems Melvillian at this point- a ridiculous quest that will never end and yet suddenly I realized how I could in fact actually accomplish it. It was so simple, and I held the answer right there in my hand. All I had to do was just use the reverse capture feature on my phone, as if I was taking a photo of myself- but it wouldn’t be a self-portrait- it would be a picture of his face!

 I quickly turned around, as if I wanted to take a photo of where I had just been, and toggled to take a picture over my shoulder as he approached me from behind.

I saw him coming. I steadied myself. I set my feet above my hips, just like in pilates class. The moment I had been trying to seize for years was about to happen. I think I grew slightly erect when he entered the frame.

I didn’t fumble. I held steady- I didn’t shoot too soon, but timed it just right when I hit that glowing red button. I heard the satisfying little snap as it shot. I had caught the fucker. Finally.

And then…

The little bastard thwarted me again. For the hundredth motherfucking time. He’s so evil it makes me tremble.

How can he be that smart?

How can he be this damn good?