Spitting humans

there was the woman who understood the crawling instincts in us all. so she would spit on herself before she left the house. Spit in her hand and rub it over her body like lotion. After a shower. Fresh spit on top of a fresh body.
I figured out the smell years later. But I always thought about her scent. It was hers alone. I never thought it was particularly good yet it pulled at me. Regardless of time or place, there was always that desire. It must have been the spit.
She would leave sex smeared on her body, she would masturbate and wipe her fingers across her neck gently. She knew what she was doing. She understood human before the rest of us. Her mind worked far forward, pulling from an animal past. It is beautiful to realize, our roots dug deep into a dirty mess of history's bodies. Stepping back now I can see the ideas spread across History, as a virus. With no real roots other than that instinct in a human. Instinct, which adapts, transforms, overcomes, covers, lies, moves...Instinct at the core of today. Covered up more than ever. Make-up covering instinct. But, she knew. She saw it all simply as I do now. So she got dirty. And desire. And became a human.