So this morning I’m driving to the jobsite, and as I merge onto a county hwy and accelerate to 55 in my peripheral I notice two tiny winged bugs affixed to my driver’s side window at eye level. They’re both hanging on with sticky- feet magnets, butt to butt…and it looks as though they're connected ...yes (… What else could it be?), by bug genitalia. They look a lot like fruit flies but even smaller, tiny, one dark and one translucent, and as I gain speed they’re hanging on for dear life…deep in the throes of what must be bug sex. I’m tellin’ ye, their attached at the groin, facing away from each other and fluttering in the wind.

Then I’m thinking the translucent one is the female. She’s toward the front taking the wind in the face. Tiny stick feet glued to the glass, quaking in the wind…and suddenly she’s blown from the window and arcs over the top of the male as he somehow flips and regains his footing. But now she’s just dangling behind, banging off the glass then swinging in the wind and banging off the glass, and he’s got his sticky magnet feet locked onto the window while she’s part grasping for glass and part flapping in the gale. All that’s keeping her in the frame, her only sustaining tether is his genitalia. Oh, man.

I’m driving, watching the road, taking glances at this miniature spectacle, anthropomorphizing to pass the time, and I’m…saying, “Go you two. Ride it. The cosmic fuck of your bug life. Hang on that wave, ride that epic bug bang for all it’s worth.” Then I get to thinking: whoa what if it’s one o those barbed bug penises, and she’s screaming, “Get that thing the hell outta me, your tearing me apart from the inside!” And he’s shouting, “I can’t release until I cum. It's not my fault, I'm a bug. You got to squeeze me or something. Say something sexy about your mandibles!”

Then I’m thinking: talk about kegels! Wholly smokes!

But they look like they’re doin’ alright. Butt to butt and riding glass.

Still hanging on. Now she’s reattached to the window too, her back to the dark male and the wind. Shuddering...on some miraculous procreative verge of climax, I imagine, at least that’s sure how it looks. I’m watching the road, watching the tiny bugs. …Then they shudder seemingly beyond the commands of the wind in a mad conjoint convulsion...bug asses grinding…then pulling away from each other suddenly and …p0p.. they come apart.

Winded, attached to the glass, they're facing each other in what I imagine could be some post coital bug afterglow. Then as if to say, “Yeah…it was real nice, li’l sista. I’ll call ya,” he releases from the glass and is gone. Boys 'll be boys, I guess.

The translucent female, where she gets her extraordinary energy, maybe still in the throes of post coital bug afterglow, I don’t know—maybe feeling a little bit jilted but not showing it, somehow she turns to face the assailing wind with renewed vigor. Surfing USA. And as I merge onto the interstate and begin to accelerate to 70, I look over and she looks to be in the cosmic afterglow of her bug life, riding the glass like a soul surfer gliding the green room o some epic glassy tube. She’s face-first into the wind and hangin’-loose….

Then poof…she surrenders to the 70 mph wind and is gone.

And I’m thinking: man, I hope the last thing that went through her mind wasn’t her ass against the windshield of the truck behind me.