Be Green

I sprouted 326 small, pale mushrooms from the center of my back

Sitting upon my haunches with every muscle in my body clenched I gave birth to them

And then as surely, as fear, anguish, joy, and relief of this sprouting,

fluid came running from my marrow and mind

All blue and yellow and runny

And the blue and yellow liquid met in little puddles between the fungus, and fuzzy little people emerged from the goo

They ran as tears between the mushroom caps and carved dwellings into the stinging meat of their new beautiful little fungal blooms

I could feel their existences inching , no not inching… millimetering, pulsing across the small of my back, breathing as thousands of little infected pores

And I collapsed

When I awoke I leveled a little camera of 10,000 times magnification to the small of my back attached to my laptop and I watched

They had indeed carved homes among the mushroom caps and they ran among one another, fluid little fuzzy blue and yellow critters carving into my flesh and each other

When I zoomed close enough in to one patch or another I could see them feeding their young. I could see them relaxing in the small hollows of my back and I could see them consuming differing colors of one another

I gingerly reached back to touch them, you see it itched so badly, and I would not have them consume one another

But when I pressed ginger fingertip to them I scattered and rushed and consumed them so badly that they swirled and rose up fiercely and the tops of mushrooms were torn away

Horrified I would do more damage than good I pulled to me a half a bag of Funyons and nibbled on the remaining rings for days and watched

The blue fluid people seemed to overwhelm the yellow for a time, but I noticed as the masses swelled against and among each other a new color emerged

They were a beautiful light to dark green, and the yellows and blues drew them amongst each other as family, and soon the green led the blue and yellow into one pond of peaceful, colorful, loving beauty

They were still and happy merely dwelling among the fungus of the small of my back, and any time the blue and yellow rose against each other the green sprouted anew

And where there was green there were the beginnings of consent of the simple little existence of the fuzzy little creatures of the small of my back among the towering, aging crusts of the mushroom caps that were their homes

“One moment” I muttered as the door of my apartment was keyed open by my landlord. I suppose my scent had reached them. “One moment!” I yelled as the men in white jackets came and pried me from my laptop.

“You see they are all turning green!” I bellowed at the mahogany man as he opened a chlorinated water hose on me in the tiny shower room.

“They were turning green.” I whimpered at the porcelain skinned man as he flipped through my files and checked boxes and asked me questions of which I had no answers

And when the small of my back lay sterile. When I was male mother no longer but sterile myself of mind,

They placed me in a bagging line at a local grocer and I numbly placed cans into bags and muttered of bright colors to myself

The differing hues of those buying groceries seemed so insignificant

When I arrive home to the halfway house I mutter for the thousandth time today “They all seemed so similar? Why can’t they all be green?”

“It’s okay Bill.” The man with my pills and meals said kindly. “It’s okay.”

When my first check arrives I buy blue and yellow paint and smear the colors together endlessly

When the colors mix I smear the shade of leaves and moss across myself in the night before cleaning everything up and washing the paint from my face

When no one is looking I smear a freshly picked mushroom from the yard across the small of my back and inhale the scent of musk from my fingertips

“Be green” becomes a smart remark in the home after I repeat it too many times

No one understands

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