Recovering the Darkness / Florianconrad

I want to deal in you. Let it open,
It's not very official, a dealer with another people's predators,

Where I'll sale tickets for the shows
in demolished operas, letters unopened for years,
nutmeg wines produced in Yugoslavia,
DDR fenders, Wartburg headlights
and trabant steering, postcards
from long-established countries.

It'll be easy to find me.
Real. You'll know after the night of the knocking.
the heart (or the usage of comic substances),
A harsh thrill moving through the strings.

I'm here, see? I'm hiding in the sand,
buried shallow, but so as not to be completely
you see, flat form and with teeth; what
He whispers tight: 'Why people
They do it to themselves all the time?

I'm the sound between the passing on the sidewalk
passersby, play 'extend your eyes and find
hidden in the picture', neologism seen with surprise
in a Polaroid image (i.e. sunflower tail, and you
See besides the hayseed, rainwater, and the screamer).