In the jungle the signals from the networks are dead for days after lightning strikes the cross and the powerline down at the mission. The linemen are all dead as well and the natives cook tourists in the proverbial cauldrons. But who am I to judge cultures before I taste their best dish? This ethnography has not been peer-reviewed. This biography has not been authorized and these facts have not been checked. But the alternative is staring at a girl named Rhonda sitting alone on a swing at recess because it’s not the first time these wires have been down.
We must learn to fly immediately or be detained at the border. The natives are restless and the fair maiden awaits the volcano disguised as a carriage of gold. The new part of the castle is not secure and the roof provides shelter from nothing. I have come to an important decision: I’ve had enough to drink. I’ve had enough of this salt air and these nights of dry smiles. Oh city of brick, oh house of dimming stars, my ancient rusting instruments. My sideways glances. My irresistible avian urges.
I may have drifted vertical, horizontal, occipital, but now it's over for good. I miss the blue days of last week. I pretend we’ve never met. And one day in the shine of bright lights my car will come to a stop at the edge of the village. Monkeys will chitter from the jungle as old explosives rust in plain view of children playing in a field. I will carry a knife and, for you, I will cut down a goddamn tree. I will take off my shoes. I will goddamn walk right in.
Bernd Sauermann was born in Hof, Germany, and immigrated to the U.S. in 1968. He is Visiting Professor of Writing at Adams State University in Alamosa Colorado and has published two books of prose poems, Seven Notes of a Dead Man’s Song, with MadHat Press, and Redshift with Lit Fest Press; two chapbooks, Diesel Generator with Horse Less Press and Diagram and Nomenclature with White Knuckle Press.