TE20 Migrant Mosaics

Ben Sloan

over at Birke and smiled. Birke looked at his eyes for a moment then moved down to his chest. Beads of sweat ran from his neck into his chest hair. She wanted to grab at them, to lick them off his hair, no matter the likely consequence of getting his chest hairs in her mouth. Even better. The girl gave the ball back to the guy. He served and this time she volleyed back. With a pose, a cocky pose, he volleyed back and played with her. She volleyed. He volleyed back. She laughed. He laughed. Birke began to feel strange. Her temples pulsed. She felt as if her skull was caving in so she left the park. She left the park and walked down a street where the buildings looked the same. Actually, every street looks the same in Vienna. The Habsburg’s wanted to trap us in a maze, but instead of bushes, they trapped us in these ugly ( schön ) four story buildings designed inthe late 19thcentury imperial eye. Sometimesachurch emerges out of nowhere to signal that we havemade progress, but then we realize that we have only come across another version of the last large towering, sometimes spiraling building with a cross perched at its highest point: where the fuck am I? She continued down the street: buildings with busts of intimidating figures attached to them looked down on passers- by; a woman walked her dog—a small one, like the one that you think could be a rat or dinner. Why is my therapist always talking about my “ruminations?” Then she thought about Thomas. More building with facades. Two men speaking in what she thought was Turkish. She thought 220 Is this what my therapist meant by “ruminations?”