I can so relate to the threat that I pose,
the threat that I went in search of sentences long and old,
the round bold letters on postcards to the university and the ghostly presence from a tiny village on the map.

Yet I do not understand why I foolishly ran away at 20,
I do not understand why reading an acknowledgement online gives me a high.
The journalists in Bosnia declined to report the crime that included visiting places on Google earth, wondering about nights and cupcakes.