After dinner with my mother’s rice and chicken sitting uncomfortably in my stomach like a rock I excuse myself and head outside.
The mid-November air stings what is exposed on my body, in this case my hands and face as I shut the backdoor. I am alone.
My cat Scarlet (a few years younger than me, we’ve grown apart in the years since I got her) calls for attention. I scratch her behind her ears and she purrs for a second or two, after which she walks away, satisfied.
The moon was especially gorgeous that night. The land was topped, however by a low, thin layer of clouds, which dulled its rays. In spite of this, or maybe because of this, I feel more directly in line with the earth than I have felt in a while. I treasure these quiet moments of solitude in the cold late-autumn air. But my parents will question why I stay outside so I keep it brief.
After a second of this blissful period of nonchalant calm, I do what I came out to do. I unzip my pants, whip out my dick, and begin to piss– aiming for a spot between tree roots and the moss-covered ground. From the spot where it lands a pillar of steam arises.
While I’m pissing I look up again at the moon. The clouds blur its shine so that a sort of corona surrounds it. While I look at it I see something that I don’t expect to see– a flower. The scattered rays form the petals and the moon itself forms the center, a bit like a giant white petunia.
With the coming months there will be more cold weather, along with cold air, cold arguments, cold coffee, cold realizations, and cold situations. But along side it will be the moonflower that I saw this evening, burning white-hot in the sky from wherever I am. And with it there will be hot friends, hot chocolate, hot rooms, hot boys, and hot relationships. However many cold seasons might come I’ll still have the hotness of the moonflower to look at while I piss in the stillness of the winter night.
And someday I’ll have flowers of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple along with my white flower. Flowers in all colors, shapes, and scents¬¬– in every variety in the coming summer of my life.
November 10, 2008