trio sonata for sneakers, pebbles and moped
Firstly everything draws closer and closer.
Because it’s still far away. Only later:
sharp serrations of light and dark. And then
the moped simply saws the audience
into two halves, via surprise and recognition,
hope and memory, via endless repetitions
and at long last, via its sound.
It’s those in the middle who get sawn in half,
who move on. The rest stay where they’ve always been.
And there the next movement’s already in full swing
in all its primitive might. People’s ears are full of pebbles
of various sizes and in various languages.
Those sawn in half have already for some time
by this time – and not without grumbling – been stuck
in a phone queue with 77 pardons.
On soundless sneakers the trio and thus
the sonata as well run up the long, long
yes, endlessly long flight of steps to heaven.