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.