Finals Week, Part 1

There are two large snakes housed in the Science Building at UMM. The boa constrictor is named Ramses, and the ball python is 8 Ball. I held 8 Ball once in late October. I happened to be passing by as some of the biology majors were lifting him out of his glass tank. "Why don't you hold him?" a boy asked enticingly, draping the snake about his shoulders as if it were a scaly shawl.

My first inclination was to say no. My second inclination was to say well okay.

8 Ball was heavier than I expected; his long body was thick and muscular. His dry skin slid against mine as he twisted his head around to look at me. He flicking his tongue periodically, me hardly blinking at all, we regarded one another.

He must have decided I was all right (for a human), because he soon resumed wrapping himself tightly around my arms.

Now it's December, and I'm back again to stand in the Science Building and gaze at the snakes. Among the rocks in their enclosures, they hardly move at all. Ramses has a large lump near his throat, and I know that while he lays placidly, inside he is digesting his Sunday dinner. I pity the mouse that didn't have a chance.

I sit down beside the tanks to work on a paper that should have been done yesterday, and suddenly I would give everything good and dear and wonderful about my life to be a snake. To doze inside a warm rectangle all day, only disturbed to eat and drink and to be held by curious students wearing black glasses and hooded sweatshirts. To creep around on my belly, not concerned about getting up or lying down or hurrying or tripping or letting anyone down.

I'd like to be a snake, so I can simply be.