Yes, there is sickness and death all around me, but as I meander through the city streets, all I can think about is pussy. The flowering kind. She’s bursting all around me, exposing her lascivious petals. Her cuntelligence. The seed of seduction. I sniff the air. Yup. It smells too. Deliciously promiscuous like a harlot should.
Okay, enough with the shenanigans. What am I talking about? Not what. Who? Gaia. That’s who I’m talking about. The ovarian Goddess. That seductress of mammals and winged creatures alike. She has enticed us with her wise aromatic narcotics and sensory stimulation. The most successful and diverse among land plants, disperses seeds across the planet, and we gladly act as her bearers.
I take the back alleys, but there are others walking there. The small side-streets are busy too. In the village, there is a group of older men smoking and talking in the plaza. No safe distancing between them. Haven’t these bastards read the news? The world’s got a fever and it is burning. I take another alley instead. It’s longer but safer.
I try to wear the mask. N95. My mouth starts sweating a couple of minutes later. A chemical smell makes me dizzy. I take it off and put it back in my bag. What was I thinking?
There are plenty of people outside to make the walk seem like a game of Frogger. I cross the street to avoid incoming pedestrians. Back and forth. Zig-zagging. Giving people their space. Walking on the street if I have to. Son of a bitch in the corner is smoking. I can smell his cigarette. He coughs. Particles streaming out of his mouth. Some are wearing masks. Mostly Asians. But a few whites too. It has become more acceptable to wear them. Surgical masks or homemade. They protect others nearby and partially protect the wearer. Better than nothing, I guess. And probably a whole lot more comfortable than the damn n95 dust mask I got.
I look at the blooming trees and my mind goes back to pussy. I see her blossoms in all their splendor. She knows that her longevity depends on the insects and the flying monkeys around her. So she has given herself to us in a symbiotic relationship. She’s highly fertile.
…64 orders, 416 families, 13,000 known genera, and 300,000 known species…
So says Wikipedia. Her sluttiness is enshrined in the digital archives that hold our collective knowledge. I wonder what she thinks of all this mayhem? Is she going to step in and save our assess once again? Perhaps she’ll gift us a new drug, a new medicine. She’s a genuine Dr. Feelgood. It may hurt a little sometimes, but in the end you can count on mother to make it all better.
I run the errand and make my way back home. Avoiding people. Eye contact. The nameless faces. Back to my workshop and urban bug-in hole. The flowers blooming. A knowing smile.
We’re all in this together.
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