technically, lady bugs do not scream.

but they do flit. they crawl, climb, gather. they invade lakefronts, like one year in chicago - became a horrid ugly thing. you realize any pretty thing can get to be too much. crawling all red

and dottish and smooth over your shins and in your hair. you're picking fucking

ladybugs out of your soup at lunch, they're catching a wind and dying in between your book pages. red bloody dots smeared tomato wash across crime and punishment.

this has turned dark. it was not the asian lady beetle. they were ladybugs.

i used to like them.