Touch

The hardest thing about being alone
is not the silence at the end of a day
or the stillness of the morning
It is the absence of touch.

It must be hard to imagine for you
with lovers
husbands and wives
girlfriends and boyfriends
babies and kids.

Pretend you have a highly infectious disease
fatal to all who touch you
and wait.
And wait.
And wait.

You will become hungry.
Thirsty.
Your body will start to react
in ways we have no language for.
You will cheat when no one is looking
and buy massages from strangers.

Just to feel alive.

Without touch, we shrivel and die.
It somehow connects us with something unseen.
I don't know what that is.
But it makes me feel good.
Loved.
Wanted.
Connected.
Accepted.
OK.

To touch or be touched.
That is the question.
To touch is an act of giving.
To be touched is an act of receiving.
It is the latter that is endangered
when one is single and alone.

Moon of the First Spray, or, The Beagle and the Skunk

Little Skunk was stealthy. It knew the Human comes out every morning, shining a candy apple red Mag light into the darkness blanketing the backyard. Most times the light would land on Little Skunk, who was intently digging little holes in the grass, looking for her morning breakfast. So intent was she that not once did she look up. Or at least that’s what she wanted the Human to think. The big two-legged did not notice little black eyes were staring at her all the while.

One morning, Little Skunk decided it was time to make her move. It was the Moon of the First Spray. All the Skunks in her family had given a great feast in her honor the night before. And here it was. The morning of all mornings when she would make her mark and enter adulthood. Her heart fluttered. She had been practicing her shot on an old tree stump all week. She knew she was ready. 10 out of 10.

And so early that morning, Little Skunk went through the opening in the old gate and positioned herself directly behind the old apple tree, well hidden from the beam of light that swept across the yard. She waited.

“Ok little buddy, coast is clear!” said the Human. The back door opened and out came Tiny Beagle.

He caught Little Skunks scent immediately. Tiny Beagle dropped his nose to the backsteps and found the trail. Little whimpers escaped his throat as they always do when he is on scent.

“Perfect,” thought Little Skunk. “He will come right to me.”

And to Little Skunk he went. The second Tiny Beagle looked up and noticed the black and white furry thing in HIS yard, Little Skunk took aim and fired. It was a direct hit, right between the eyes.

Tiny Beagle began shaking his head, squeezing his beautiful brown eyes tightly. No matter how much he shaked that nasty smelling stuff wouldn’t fly off! Tiny Beagle blindly made his way to the back door to be rescued by the Human with the flashlight. “Tiny NO!!!!!!!!!” could be heard down the block, as the little dog began to rub his face on every cloth covered object in the house.

Little Skunk stood there in disbelief. She did it! On her first try, she shot the dog right between the eyes! Cheers erupted in the dark morning forest, Skunks from all around celebrated and danced under the moonlight, their white stripes flashing brightly through the trees. A tiny acorn medal was pinned on Little Skunk by the Elder of her Tribe, and she was escorted to another feast of beetles and grubs. It was delicious. Afterwards, Little Skunk crawled into her burrow for a nice long nap. And dreamed of another morning, another Dog…