Hundreds of red laser dots pepper my chest and back invisible assailants insect ninjas no whizzing or warning whirrs bites so unfelt no swat is possible evolution has taught these to crawl softly sip shallow strike and flee (leaving no trace of pun) I run my hand over clustered lumps the child in me connects the dots for a treasure map the blind Seer senses a lesson in red Braille the old mystic traces constellations here Orion there The Dipper and lower—ah! the Great Jumping Flea.