When I was young, I feared the dark, basements, attics and water spots on the ceiling. I outgrew all of those (even though I still put basements in my poems almost continuously - so maybe the fear is still there).
I have an unnatural fear of water, which makes no sense to me because I have always been an excellent swimmer. I can swim two miles in the pool but, despite really wanting to swim the same distance in the lake, I can't do it. I even gave up waterskiing because I dreaded falling. I damn near had a heart attack when I fell one time in the weeds.
My second fear is caterpillars. Those little fuckers are everywhere right now. They're all over the deck, climbing the outside walls of the house, on the door. Why do they affect me so? Like every other kid, at one time I thought they were cute. Then, one day, I was outside painting a house in a pair of white painting overalls. I was rustling around in the bushes to paint the bottom of the siding when I felt a STING! in my most private of areas. I pulled off the overalls and there was one of those little fuckers that had somehow made its way up my leg to bite me. I was nauseus for days just thinking about it and, ever since, I can't stand even looking at one. And now, they're having a fucking convention all around me. I can't even go outside on the deck for a coffee and a cig. Fuckers!
