One final question
But there was no information
and so we continued...
the mirror ball at the dance palace spun down,
the band with fewer members than it had.
But there was no information
and so we continued...
the hot food van beside the pier
grown sinister, although still drawing a queue.
But there was no information
and so we continued...
tracking in the chill predawn
along some farmyard track,
cows mourning fitfully on either side.
But there was no information
and so we continued...
footsore, into some market town
a slow milkman waving
his long forgotten cheer.
But there was no information
and so we continued...
trains coming, going --
a lottery of timetables.
But there was no information
and so we continued...
pulling in at noon to a city grown still
and filled with dust;
a single taxi blinks its "for hire" lamp.
But there was no information
and so we continued...
up onto the cold dry mountain roads, where,
the taxi, failing, is shoved
ungrieved into the scrub.
But there was no information
and so we continued...
the taxi man with convert's fervour,
trading for food
at broken airstream trailers.
But there was no information
and so we continued...
onto the high plateau,
the metal dishes peering at the sky.
There is no information
and so I continue...
growing bleached and weather battered,
time taking me forward,
eating lizards, herding llamas,
salvaging parts and fuel
from empty villages.
A cold time I've had of it,
servant of one last machine,
searching with inhuman patience
day and day about, listening and calling out;
Hello, is anybody there?
Hello, hello -- we're lonely...
