“Theories of Influence”

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I do not know how I got through the first
day after the storm but recall that during

the night, doubting what I had seen
with my own eyes I walked once more

through the park. Where and in what
time I truly was that day in Orfordness

I cannot say even now as I type these
words. I cannot say how long I stood

by one of the three windows, engrossed
in that view. Whenever I rested on that bed

over the next few days, my consciousness
began to dissolve at the edges, so that at

times I could hardly have said how I
had got there or indeed where I was.

I have only an indistinct notion of how
beautiful it all was, said Anne, nor can I

properly describe now the feeling of being
driven in that limousine that appeared

to have no one at the wheel. I cannot
remember whether it was she who

turned the conversation to the fact
that nobody wears mourning any more

not even a black band on the sleeve
or a black stud in the lapel. But why

it was that on my first visit to Michael’s
house I instantly felt as if I lived or had

once lived there, in every respect precisely
as he does, I cannot say. Instead I left

the building with a sick feeling in the pit
of my stomach & walked & walked without

being able to grasp even the simplest thought
well past the Westkreuz or the Hallesches

Tor or the Tiergarten; I can no longer say
where. I cannot say how long I walked about

in that state of mind or how I found a way
out. I no longer remember if it was the Lord

Asquith the Aristo or the Fabiola. To this day
I do not know what to make of such stories.

–after WG Sebald

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Don’t Forget to Love Me by Anselm Berrigan is available via Wave Books.