The earth shook beneath me,
first making my desk creak,
and then my apartment.
I’ll never get used to them.
For the first second or so,
I always think it’s my imagination.
It’s like I’m all of a sudden on a waterbed;
the whole world on a waterbed.
I feel drunk in an instant.
It happened the other night,
which is why it’s fresh in my mind.
but not massively dangerous either.
A part of me wanted it to last longer.
The earth is talking to me,
entrusting me with something worthwhile and meaningful.
I felt connected to her,
like I do in a storm – but an earthquake is different.
When she shakes my foundations,
she’s forcing me to listen;
grabs me by the shoulders,
looks me directly in the eyes.
“Do I have to scare you,” she says,
“in order for you to believe I’m living?”
“I’m afraid so.”
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