...Goo From Me To You...

Normally, 

I am quite free with my bodily fluids. 

Perfectly willing to share 

with almost anyone. 

But then there came a time in my life 

when I found out that certain women 

possessed a hidden agenda when 

it came to one specific emission. 

Nasty viscous fluid indeed. 

 

Nope. 

You don’t want any of this 

inya, onya or around ya. 

 

Oh yes. 

That’s right. 

We’re talking about snot. 

 

Horrid stuff,   snot.

Just my opinion here, but 

I’d venture to bet 

most women find it repulsive. 

And those women 

who don’t find it repulsive 

are found repulsive by those who do. 

Yes. Yet another ugly form of prejudice. 

 

So, I guess you’d have to say 

that snot is an acquired taste, 

and it doesn’t matter whether 

it’s Brad Pitt’s snot or not, 

women still don’t want to be around it. 

 

  [Wait. There’s more.]

 

Okay. 

Let’s talk about love. 

Love and viruses. 

Same, yet different. 

 

In my life, I’ve been loved. 

At this precise moment I am loved. 

And when I’m loved, 

I’d like to think I’m loved completely. 

All of me. 

Every aspect of me. 

Every nuance. 

 

When I get sick… 

When the virus invades, mutates, 

and becomes one with me… 

My Love… 

My Love cares for me. 

Me and the virus that is me. 

 

But… 

But should I blow my nose… 

If I, the one she loves, 

fills a tissue to the brim 

and overflowing with 

virulent chocked snot… 

You think my anti-snot sweetie’s 

   gonna’ pick it up? 

 

To love… 

To love or 

snot to love? 

That 

   is the question. 

 

Ó05 Jack David Hubbell