after fucking drunkenly in the haunted gymnasium
& evacuating at dawn it seemed most likely
we would go back to being strangers.
I looked after her car as she drove airily away waving
mosquitoes and toxins from her face. I imagined both of us
felt a little awkward in such pale circumstances.
at the radio check-in the secret policeman looked into my bag
with an instrument that detected
& measured enmity and significance.
you are officially no one & nothing he told me smiling.
your spirit doesn't even trip the needle you are nothing.
you are the equivalent of a dead person
who did nothing and meant nothing during life
who left no traces even
in the dream-behaviours of those he knew.
this does not make you anonymous or free.
it's not a psychodynamic void by which you will transcend
your customary submissive resignation into the exultant
furniture of one who finally knows a mystic extinction
of all ego and identity breaking into new levels
of gnosis—it is merely a label we employ
to describe those we regard as least
manifest for our monitoring purposes.
you are free to go. have a nice life. he waved me through
like a ghost like something that could be easily
transmitted through all further official inspections
with just a flutter of his small blue hand. there was more importance
& significance in his little wave than I had ever achieved
in life or would achieve in death.
collecting my papers I ran to the incoming sign
where she had promised to meet me all those years ago.
there would be no gymnasiums this time. no waving away. I vowed
that before anything else we would buy a hotbed, would
take it with us to the ten fertile shines where we would spend
the next year or so preparing. others in our background
would do most of the animate parts of all this.
we were almost entirely spirit now
lost in our own body cavities, stroking our nerve endings
into shimmering fields of revolutionary parallax.
her flight upended gently in the wet fields at dusk. we ran
with arms outstretched to wave each other into readiness.