At the Train Station

remember the kristall twitter, as glass explodes nightly and each shot tickles down our neck. i preen the shards, which are deep in, and cut my fingertips and think of stealing diamonds. unrested, small groups storm the station and as they shoot out windows they quickly install new panes, and then explain at length why each person will be shot, referring individually to names which are more or less ubiquitous. each name is a like a marker of similarity to the next, differences of octaves. we provide documents proving our identities to be other to the names called, but as such they do not match the files and are thus irrelevant. they carve words in the ground and ask me to spell them. calling out each word, they ask me to pronounce it. they say rendezvous and i copy them letter for letter. i plead for the life of my daughter, but there is no record of a daughter. as each of us is shot, a new person, whose documents match up, is brought in and takes place on the platform. Acrew rolls the train back, revealing a waiting train. where the blood is too thick, new, snap-lock parkett is quickly laid in traditional designs. The train pulls in.

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