Concrete ribbons pull me around every morning; they tie me up next to the Farmer John death coach and I get the sinking desire to pull hard on my wheel and land under the truck. Danger is a theme; our house is infested with black widows – the joys basement living. I noticed one had built a web in a drainpipe on the side of the house; it was bouncing up and down upon its prey, a grey dead moth. The spider slowly dragged the carcass into the darkness of the pipe; a pretty chilling scene to witness early in the morning. The widows are challenging my “no kill” policy; I am a re-locater. Glass jar with an LP slipped underneath; my song might change if I get stung. Shamefully, I am happy that Auriana is a widow assassin; just like so many others are happy that Farmer John is around to take care of their pig killing. Anyone want to come and visit?