Life and Death

It’s late, and I’ve been working on the computer all day.  My eyes are tired.  My neck is soar.  I pack my bag, put on my sweater, and turn off all the lights.  Then, I walk into the night and mount my bicycle.

Every night I ride five miles across town to the room I sleep in.  It’s not convenient, but it helps to keep me grounded; it forces me to step back from technology and embrace my humanity...

Tonight, because I’ve worked so hard, I’m a bit tired.  My legs feel numb, and my hands are cold as they grip the bars.  The cars that pass me look warm inside, while a frosty wind bites at my face.  To keep my mind occupied, I chew on my sweater.

I accidentally pull a thread from the fabric, and roll it in my mouth.  I grow tired of the string and decide it's time to spit it out.  That’s when it happens...

As I turn my head and spit, I startle two cats by the curb...  In one instant I see them having sex.  Then, in the next they’ve torn apart, and as both cats dart across the road, a passing car narrowly misses hitting them.

By chance, I nearly brought death upon two lovers.  I imagine the scene, both of them there, down in the street, kissing and licking and fucking.  Then, I come along and bring with me mass-bloodshed.

Recently I’ve been thinking about mass-bloodshed, too—about the unfortunate people of Sudan and their drought.  These are people who have contributed negligibly to pollution, and yet it seems they’ve become the first victims of global warming.

Sometimes mistakes just happen…  Sure…  But if you ask me, I think we should all be a lot more careful about where and when we decide to spit.  Sometimes it really is a matter of life and death.  I think the people of Sudan would agree, and I know the two cats would say so.