You let out a tiny squeaky sound of elation, but Karl is not surprised. He tells you about the Corncrakes, a rare bird. “Last year...” he begins and you zone out for a moment, but he doesn’t notice. “That’s why every time it should be made…” You interrupt his explanation with another squeak and...

• And just like that,
• Karl stops speaking,
• and all that remains
• is a lingering vibration in your gut
• that gradually
• transforms itself
• into a distant memory.
• It doesnt disappear.
• No,
• It never really disappears,
• yet you do not know
• how to access it,
• where to find it.
• It is
• comfortably resting
• inside you,
• lazily latent,
• like a feeling,
• soft
• like lips
• awakened at seemingly random occasions
• when the sensory stimulation is right.