The day when we were sucked to Heaven

I still remember the day when we were sucked to Heaven, the evening when we were.

Is still fresh in my mind the vision how, suddenly, the open space of Summer of the European Union became void and magnetized like a huge, selestial and conchoid leech

like an Aerospace-Age Inferno.





For our glory, the song "Heartbeat", by Don Johnson, was epic crown and aural background for this excessive theatre of massive Euro-abduction

for this atrocity of the divine love.


And how white and how angelical we were in that evening!

and how pastel was the color of our pastel suits!

and how facile was our escalation into the astral nullity!




Our unwanted but delicious enrapturement was watched from computers of California, Israel, Tokyo and the Mercosur, by eyes that cheerioed us with humane empathy

or cetaceous.

And how interconnected our hearts were, beating as one with Don Johnson and with our own ascending oneness?




Because that day was called the day of the epilepsy of the nations


and the dolphins saluted our departure with tears oozing from their integrated circuits in cetaceous mercy

or human.



I still remember the day when we were sucked to Heaven, the evening when we were

drinking this tea at home, watching it again on DualDisc, our little Exodus to the étoiles

our humble Battlestar Galactica

so many years ago.