last week I joined Twitter, solely

for professional matters. (…as if

I could just take off my private

parts like a coat. oh no.)

it claims to be the place where it

all happens all the time, though

I see no flowers blooming, no provisions given.

anyhow, I joined to represent and connect, it is done

for now, let’s hope I can

distinguish moths from butterflies.

and then another night came, luckily.

we met up at a Turkish place

run by an Iraqi man

in a conservative German town,

the love, the friend, and I.

the friend, he comes from Syria, always reminds me

that the past tense of to flee isn’t he flew.

sitting there, surrounded by bearded men and

garlic and Arabic and wintery nighttime,

one thing became so very clear.

I must not confuse two things

that our time has branded as one:

audience isn’t community.

the former — a thrill for every extrovert,

a fix, addiction, recipe for reputation, inevitable curse.

the latter: people who help picking up the pieces

when vulnerability visits these barren lands.

so – both needed and valid.

one momentarily more seductive,

one eternally important.

let’s hope I don’t miss the mark

and there’s no-one left

to remind me of the fact

that I did.