NOTES FROM A SEMINAR: MIGRANT NARRATIVE #3

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen

A show of hands for attendance in body at least.

The sky a clingfilm blue blanket

And we’re already slick like otters

Sticking already to seats with legs

Pooling already away.

According to attendance we’re diminishing and dwindling.

Detox-drink blasted spinach demonstratively,

kick self for demonstration,

open book mime reading,

make auto pilot notes:

„It points to the fact that //

the sky //

a palimpsest //

ties into //

each part of time //

whether we stay or come back //

leave from A and arrive by B //

a meanwhileness that means //

we are all migrants //

according to the text //

‘in their phones were antennas and these antennas sniffed out an invisible world’ //

until it is suddenly no longer possible //

to send messages“

(we do anyway)

Hi

(under the table)

Hola chica

(comparing imposter syndromes)

she must have made a mistake

(from across the seminar room)

No way am I that good

(skeptical reply)

(gratitude for compliment)

(yellow smiling angel face // blue halo)

The falling rubble of thunder cracks the sky lengthways

and the dome of the leaking library

we call The Brain

quivers ominously.