And it is difficult
to get abducted
even in a cornfield.

You remind yourself again
how it took every ounce
of luck just to be born.

We have been
expecting you
they always say.

You are like them,
obsessed with secrecy
and perfect circles.

They are interested.
Go on,  they say,  nodding
in unison like sunflowers.

It is the inner space
that hurts most,  you say,
the not knowing.

But by now the translator
is preoccupied,
fiddling at the controls.