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Who is willing to stand by the throat gland and watch saliva turn into silver? Do elephants glance at each other or do their ears get in the way? Their ears are blocking the rain from getting to their cheekbones, but rain does not rain sideways. In fact, rain rains down vertically. The elephants think this is a big problem: horizontal rain. The problem with horizontal rain is that it is devoted purely to dust and sand and not liquid. Liquid is blackmailed by gravity. And gravity feels liquid is a threat to its life centrifugal force. Gravity is afraid of manmade hoses. Gravity is afraid of their horizontal potential. Even sandstorms do not move absolutely horizontal. They slant just slightly at an angle. Perhaps sandstorms love telling the truth. Sandstorms love other people’s open zippers. This is why it’s important during sandstorms to cover eyes, ears, and mouths, but also genitals. After all, vaginas are created with lips. If coated with saliva and sand, they become Velcro. Performing almost like a makeshift zipper, turning an unfortunate zipperless situation to a zipperful thing. But the penis has nowhere to go. It can’t be Velcro, unless it enters some type of female organ during a sandstorm. But even then, who is interested in pointed Velcro that won’t open and close like hands, doors, and lips? But must the penis wait for a windy day to be Velcro? Only on a windy day does a penis get an opportunity for the backward whiplash of an accelerating ejaculation: an ejaculation that points its finger back at the penis. Even a windy day is not completely secure either. What if the wind that carries the sand is deaf to the west side of the hemisphere? If the wind is moving in the same direction of the ejaculation, then it only extends extraordinarily more the gap between the ejaculation and the penis. The penis and the sand can’t stop woolgathering about turning into temporary Velcro. Men do not experience vagina envy during a sandstorm. They just envy Velcro. Velcro is wonderful in many senses: it is sonically marvelous. It’s an addiction. The sound as one tears one strip of Velcro from itself is just absolutely orgiastic. Who would want to have sex if one is in possession of Velcro? One could spend all day separating one Velcro from another. And dip one ear’s ear in the sonic bath of compulsory Velcro separation. The sound that emits from the tearing apart of Velcro sounds like two pulsating clitorises who know furniture or ambient music too well. It’s hard to find non-manmade Velcro these days. One walks by two men kissing and one desires to compliment, I love love love your Velcro. Sapphic fornication is tedious for women who grow out their pubic hair. Liquid makes the hair sticky and it is matted down and two women making love with each other is like spending an evening at the ER, removing bandages from the skin of motorcycle accident victims. But sandstorms are pretty on women. And on elephants. What about two cacti who sit side by side? What about them?