I travel the field on multiple currents of attraction. I follow you here, to an unoccupied shack on the margins of Baghdad city. I may have mistaken your energy for sunlight.
Inside, we climb the walls like a network of overworked nerves, leaving sentences unfinished, intentions unresolved.
We allow for a brief, complex entanglement. We are fast, careless, and dangerous with each other. This shack draws such unfinished beginnings and misadapted ends into its realm.
Warmth is found in other energy sources too, and we form a community. We devise a small spark from the friction of our frayed ends, and we keep the fire going in a dry irrigation ditch outside.
We stay in this refuge for yet-untold potential. We are energy, that is all.