Power Connections in Putin’s Alaska

Alaska. A crater formed by mountains. A tall blond woman wakes up alone. The mountains are red, the sun has set. It is 3pm. She finds some steps down into the mountains. A diorama of the valley. A red pin marks her location. Downstairs. A cowboy bar. Drunk men collapsed. She walks outside. A small, black guy in a suit greets her. He looks like he’s waiting for a date. He does this often. This is the first time any woman has turned up. He shows her around the underground base, introducing her to people as his date. They laugh until they see her. She likes his humour and optimism, the fact he is right, and she loves seeing how pissed off people’s faces are when they see she’s real. 
I’m under a bridge with international officials. We are trying to get the European train moving. I ask Putin about rebel groups in the Ukraine. We agree that stability is best for everyone. I climb on board the train, splicing power lines together, improvising connections. The train begins to move. A friend is concerned about my wiring skills. He goes to check the connections. 


The Enemy Who Drives

I’m in a remote housing estate, in the foothills of Dartmoor. Anarchist poets are causing trouble. They have a PA system, and are shouting obscene rhymes about local dignitaries. The locals aren’t happy. I see a crowd with iron bars approaching. I decide to leave. I walk to Ide, looking for a bus. I stop to buy cakes for the journey. At the bus stop, a Jali with a kora asks me if it is legal for him to play his harp and busk here. His face is disfigured on one side. I tell him that here he is free to do whatever he loves as an artist. 
A group of detectives enter. They approach me. They say I match a description of one of the anarchists they are looking for. One asks me if I have any poetry apps on my iPhone. Yes, I confirm. But slam poetry was never my thing. Too competitive. The detectives seem to be happy with this answer, or have a poor description of me. They leave. I leave shortly after, aware of the limitations of walking against an enemy who drives.