I watch my body walking on the beach.
Today there is no wind. 

The Sargent Schultz in my Gulag 13
shouts “I know nothing!”  

He suggests I imagine something
to grab hold of.  

It’s all that sky that makes him crazy.
No missus, no fire, no wiener schnitzel.  

The beach is empty.
Even the sand is silent.  

I don’t hear waves in the penumbra
lapping at my shore.