Graduate Education Contract Worker

While looking at screen on the digital camera, I can rewind and playback an aerial shot of a palace in Germany. In trying to recollect when and how I got there from my front stoop in Portland, a distant bird perched on the electrial wire reminds me of the flight.

A More fantastical journey I couldn't haver concoted. Smoke, laughter and the idea that I was going it alone. Mocking laughter and coctails all all that I can bring up. The bowels of memory triggered with each pressing of the rewind and play button. The moving images of a flock of birds storming the palace.

But what for, why am I on this journey without my partner in crime. What does this all mean?

It's politically motivated, I'm certain of that. Graduate Educational Contract worker, is that what the sewn badge reads on my light blue jacket and hat?

I'm afforded with a lovely set of night vision goggles, use it to see into the plalce at night, into the netherworld zone of backhanded cigar smoked favors, international consipracies,forgotten airs of stale vennison and cubed salmon pieces.

When I've recorded the conversations I'm to leave a copy in the left panel of the right door for the troops to find ater they've shot the place up. I'm the scouting agent of sorts, belonging to an international group whose ultimate goal is unknown, only the price was right, and I deserved it somehow, what did I do?

But I can remember finding the body on my way home,the way the smell hit me on my way home, after stepping off of the bus, knowing I should have kept my mouth shut, but that was impossible.

I went out that night, singing my canary tune to whoever would listen. And they took me in, grabbed me, and dragged me to the back room as I let it all out, and I slide the disc into the open slot in the wainscotting and wander off as the camera pulls back and I once again watch the movie clip of the palace move backward, then forward again.