[On this Amish train ride,
some are playing cards]

On this Amish train ride, some are playing cards. Others are holding their faces to the window and acting like the cranes we pass are more impressive than the train itself. We’re out of sync, one way or another.

It’s just like before, isn’t it, after this time apart in the countries of the narwhals? The map has changed, commerce as well, but only a bit more than after the cold war. The old grocery store is folding next weekend, so we can buy our groceries at 40% off. And the commute is apparently going to be much longer

Because they’re building a bridge over that hill of skirts I once threw out because they were too short. My watch reads a different hour, but it’s going to be just like before; the calendar insists.

Now we’ve seen things we will never forgive and people who will never forgive us for having seen them. And the geyser that couldn’t reroute the airplane above. And grasping through tears.

I’m not here to offer excuses, nor to share stories, because it’s all happening again. And now you’re here, and all you have to do is pay attention in a specific way. Do you want the instructions?

“Redemption is so fickle. Who decides on it, anyways?”

There exists a joke that offends no one, displays no effort, and isn’t funny at all. For that very reason, it’s known as the “zero point of humor”, and it apparently stirs the most hilarious emotions our bodies have to offer. Are you ready to hear it?

That’s where we differ. You’d say what I wouldn’t because I know things you don’t know, and vice versa.

At least that’s how it used to be.

Maybe when we get home and I correct the calendar, things will finally be different like they could have been before.