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24 Lverwurst My sandwich had not expected such travails and now it has a story to tell, another saga of my personal failures like the upside-down tulip bulbs’ short journey to hell and the guitar lessons from the casualty who still had the solo hair but not the drugs no siree he’d stop the power chords to convince himself was not the bust of a dark sacred task. Like drawing a perfect hexagon without the hexagon-drawing tool. Or swimming a long way underwater, touching the wall and swimming back. By then a new argument has taken over your brain which is becoming a raisin instead of a crystal palace where czars and czarinas are sitting down to a giant swine dinner and wolves chase troikas on the steppes and idiots play flag football in the mists. Go long, one shouts and it’s 30 years later. The spaceship has lost course while the crew was in suspended animation. Now there is an extra being on board, snarling. I get the feeling I should be somewhere now. Somewhere else. ...

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