I think I might have summit disease, I read about it in a magazine
at noon, I'm drawn to the extra large, single-stall bathroom on level 5, the one beyond the newly vacant offices
parasitic fungi, of various types, can take control of behavioural systems
every time I squat, I notice how the floor is buffed, almost amber no one knocks, a pillow and a blanket would be ideal
these pathogens hijack habits, re-purpose activities linked to circadian rhythms
I stand at the sink, willing myself to dispense soap, water rough paper towel trembles in my grasping hands
one such fungi is Ophiocordyceps unilateralis, they think it only affects insects
I'm not depressed, outside my head the birds keep falling and this concrete looks inviting in its broken bulb glow
the article says, infected ants become zombies, who can cause societal collapse
I'm sure I'd fit, curled up, there, the space between toilet and door, so sturdy with its deadbolt thrown
after they die, spores erupt from the ant's brain, raining down on the colony below
old buildings have monster doorstops sprouting in shadow, rubber tipped I'll have to be extra careful, choosing where my head will go
Ren Pike grew up in Newfoundland. Through sheer luck, she was born into a family who understood the exceptional value of a library card. Her work has appeared in Grain, The Interpreter's House, and Loch Raven Review. https://pike.headstaller.com