I am in the back of a taxi with a girl who has an aardvark, maybe an anteater, colored black and white like a badger. There is a weird morphing accomplished by the aardvark because at various times there are two girls in the backseat vs. one girl and one aardvark. At one point the aardvark is wearing a skirt and I see its bush.
I scratch the aardvark behind its ears. New plumage appears, feathers like a bird’s. He likes that, says the girl. I am asking all of these questions, probably because I am nervous. What does he eat? Where do you find enough ants for this thing?
This taxi we are in is out in the middle of nowhere. We arrived at this rural location via another taxi, whose driver we believed knew how to get us to our destination but got lost and handed us off to this other taxi, in which I met the aardvark.
One of the girls in the backseat slips me a note. I am embarrassed. It is addressed to John, but how does she know my name, we just met, and yet my name was already on this thing. It’s a valentine. It says, “I love you.” Signed by Morgan, her name. She is slow, but she and the aardvark are one.