The
train is overbooked. My presence is magic. I
am
travelling by computer. I am moved by
oversight,
taken forward as isolated information. It
is
luck that has carried me this far.
We
are travelling now and Wellington is a blurry
metro
train lit from within and a crystal clear
estuary
under moonlight and lamplight. Last night I
looked
out the window at the almost full moon. I
wondered
if it would affect me. Maybe that is why
I’m
doing this. Maybe I am travelling by moon-
modem.
A lunar link sending me skitting across the
surface
of the earth on a whim.
Sending
me through the centre of the island,
reflecting
along its irregular pathways. Patching me
through
the connections made by water. Over the
moon-light
surface of the dark island. The
glistening
keeps me moving through the wet
darkness.
This is how I travel. By computer. By
moon-modem.
As reflection. By incident. By
accident.
By train.
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