Self-discovery

At the primary school,
draw a stick along the railings
until you play the theme from the cricket,
Booker T’s Soul Limbo,
then just before the Hammond organ’s
about to drop, stop and kneel down.
Wait for the sky to grow dark.
This should not take long –
it is the day of the flying ants.
The one that lands on your back
has the details. Follow him.
You’ll find it easier than you’d imagine
to climb inside your own mouth.
Your tongue is a runway. I’m serious.
Those are not tonsils,
they’re landing gear.
Get in to the cockpit.
Don’t let the ant drive
although he’ll want to.
During take off, avoid
regional accents. Head for New York.
Tell Homeland Security
the story of your birth. Describe
your mother as: "simmering, all-powerful,
mewling like a dinosaur."
Glide through the space
where the twin towers used to be.
Don’t mistake the psychic data
for turbulence. Hit eject.
Put on Booker T’s Soul Limbo.
Hit eject. The parachute won’t open.
That’s to be expected.
Aim for the open manhole cover
between Fifth and Lexington.
You won’t get extra marks
for a backwards pike on entry.
You will only be judged
on your promptness.
Once inside, they will ask
what happened to the ant.
Tell them: "Something terrible
happened. I was at the primary
school and…"