The list of names

(This is the most recent piece in a project that begins here.)

— There among the list of names is my voice.
Inhale
— Is my face.
The face that I feel when I send my electronic messages of investigation out into my body
Slow and careful
They move about, inspecting each part
Face, cheekbone and jaw
Collarbone
Breast
Hip and thigh
The flat of the tibia beneath the skin
Ankle
The muscles before the toes
Either today or a day prior, I defeat the instinct to open the eyes
Wake but remain still
Inhale
Exhale
Hold with the lungs compressed
Messages are gathered from the ears
Laid out and assembled into language
The language is translated and as I take control of the body, I consciously remain still
I hear it
The metallic hum of steel on steel rail
The drone of quiet machines
Low, regular and dull thumping that transmits through the areas of my body that are in contact with its surroundings
Thump thump
Pause
Thump thump, like the heart
Pressure lightens, increases, lightens again
The messages are assembled and I am oriented
Swaying slightly
Then still
Then the sensation of pressing against my back
Constant
New sounds of steel
Thump
Then quietness and a gentle rock forward
The hum of machines
I open my eyes
Beyond the platform is an industrial district punctuated by housing
It’s difficult to determine which is encroaching and which diminishing, so I cease determining
There they are, woven together
The high sound of scraping metal
I pan to the middle section of the carriage
The upper torso of a man leans in
Looks into the space
Turns his head
Eyes on me, then past
Turns again
Retracts and disappears
The hum of machines
I see the man walking past my window on the platform
He exits my field of vision
Pause
The hum of machines
Inhale
Hold
Exhale
Blink
A regular chirping tone from the ceiling
The sound of scraping metal as the door opened by the man slides shut
Pause
A shudder
The sound of the machines changes, becomes more complex, layered
A gentle rock forward
Myself or the things outside begin to move
I state then the nature of our dialogue
How it was I invited you
To site beside me or opposite me
No questions
Only the stating of allowances
Permissions
Everything that can be and is
I look at your lips there
Still and quiet amongst the words
That I could participate so
That I am participating
I understand that it is not me who invites you
So then, it is not for me to refuse you
Those are the only thoughts to follow one another
Eyes to the shifting shapes beyond the window
The warehouses
Stacked, regular objects
Fences and gates
The sensation of rocking gently back and forth