SWEAT

by

Sir Aloquacious von Wigglesworth

The warm summer air brought about a reminder of pores. Liquid is a subtle thing through skin but discomfort is hardly so unimportant. I thought about elephants for some reason. I wondered about the elephants in Africa with those birds that picked at their hides. I wondered about the swarm of insects around the elephants and around the little birds. I wondered if they could sweat through all their thick skin.

I took a deep breath of sweaty humid air and I thought about the water in the sky. Humidity is a backwards thing. How could all those little vapors of liquid be so dishonest. Dishonesty's like a girl or a graveyard. It's spoiled milk. It's sweat droplets. Little acts of God portray sweetness and breed lies. Life is a series of kaleidoscopes. Honesty died a long time ago.