a classifiable organism, readily taxon’d. or just something to mention, in an offhand way, to your mother.
the coyote skulks across the path illuminated by the headlights of your vehicle. its presence can signify any and all of these things at the same time. it could mean none of them at all. who assigned you hermeneutic right and competence? slow down.
you’ve seen coyotes many times in your adult life. whatever they are, they are startling. they are skinny and knobby and hey! slow down.
general impressions while looking at photos of coyotes on google, to remember: itinerant tricksters with strong inclinations toward impishness, misdirection, and general devilry. smiling a sly dog smile. coyote fact: their piss smells bad. you have a lot more in common with them than you would’ve anticipated.
once, a long time ago, you were driving to a job interview and a coyote walked perpendicular to your slate blue 2016 toyota corolla, causing you to brake unsteadily. you saw another coyote 20 minutes later, the brother of the first, in the bushes after you parked in the lot. it looked at you with the bright and glassy eyes of an arsonist. you blushed and turned away. checkmate.
the job was parish secretary at a catholic church in la cañada flintridge, and you didn’t get it. you aren’t catholic, not really, and the coyotes aren’t either. they must have talked to admin or something. they told them about all the bad shit you did. the coyotes came through in an unmarked vehicle armed with a dossier 10 inches thick, photos of you in your underwear, eating carbs and being sinful. they wield their truculence like clubs.
okay, maybe they were protecting you from a fate worse than death (some jobs really do feel that way). but maybe it's more sinister than that. like what if they were working for some two-bit cointelpro-esque outfit somewhere deep in the los angeles crest. up where they walk on their hind legs since no one is looking. and like, their objective was to besmirch your name in order to keep you from a conventional line of work...and covertly radicalize you while you’re unemployed via youtube recommendations when all you want to do is watch the music video for lil wayne’s fireman. and like, they put a bunch of acid in your water. on the taxpayer’s dime, no less!
it’s the old “didn’t get a second interview for parish secretary to government pawn/scapegoat/assassin” pipeline. i’ve seen it a million times. you cut a tragic figure already. you could be the latest victim of obscure machinations that elude all attempts at conventional understanding. relationships that occur behind closed doors. paths of anger and forgiveness. the coyotes are trying to find a new lee harvey oswald.