I wake up in the morning, at 4 A.M. sharp, to prepare for my job at the local hand-holding factory. The sky is still dark, but the moon shines like the toothy smiles of my friends and family. My open window lets air wafts in, cool on my mouth skin and chin area. It’s a beautiful morning in a happy and free America.
The hand-holding-factory job is new, but there are so very many jobs that it made deciding where to work difficult. I brush my teeth, run my hands briskly under the water for less than thirty seconds (no soap), and head out into the world. But, first, I lick my doorknob for good luck.
Headed to public transportation, I catch the subtle notes of music in the air. It’s “Old Town Road,” by Lil Nas X, blasting from a nearby vehicle, a van that’s packed to the brim with the elderly, infants, and the immunocompromised. They love this song as much as I do. I dance to the music, using my ungloved hand to whip an imaginary lasso above my head, like a cowboy. I feel the reckless freedom of the open West, a land of Big Rock Candy Mountains and readily available respirators. Other job-havers on their way to full-time employment see me dancing and join in. It becomes a music festival. All colors and creeds dance together in harmony, because racism does not exist because we do not talk about it.
On the subway, I make sure to kiss everyone in my car. My grandma, who also works at the factory, taps me on the shoulder and reminds me not to get “too fresh.” I kiss her, as well. I can’t help it. I’m just so happy. Exiting the subway, skipping, I rub both my hands along the stairway railings.
At work, I set up at my station and get right to it, holding hands as fast as I can. After lunch at a crowded restaurant, our boss surprises us all with a pan-Asian vacation, departing from New York City! I wonder if we’ll have time to physically touch everyone in Times Square. I desperately hope so. It’s been my lifelong goal to kiss the top of the Chrysler Building. But only if all my friends, neighbors, and relatives (both close and distant) are there with me.
After work, I go on a date with a stranger I met at the music festival earlier. He is nice and I invite him into my home, where my family lives. He licks my doorknob (and other things), before I send him on his way. I crawl into my unwashed sheets in the clothes I wore all day, because I now think of them as my lucky clothes.
I shut my eyes and dream of eating at my favorite Chuck E. Cheese. It’s just another night in 2019, and the future is something I can’t wait to open-mouth smooch.
