E r i c  P e t t i f o r



by Eric Pettifor

This ladybug on my finger, is it him?

He denied being enlightened. "Incipient, perpetually incipient!" he laughed. I used big words like that, even at breakfast.

When he killed the bugs in the garden ("Only the ones who don't help"), he always smiled. He ground them under foot. He squished them between his fingers. He smiled as he killed them. He said no words, but I knew he was blessing them.

Normally he did not kill spiders ("Spiders help"). I don't know why that spider. When he killed it, he fell. He was not smiling, not until I returned from calling the ambulance.

He said,

Ladybug, ladybug,
Fly away home.
Your house is on fire,
Your children alone.