i’ve been noticing two types of german women recently.
the first is in her early to mid-twenties, has silky hair and
babysmooth skin, elegant features & dresses
as though she just strode out of the pages of cosmo
life hasn’t bumped or scraped or even touched her yet
but her expression seems always touched with
snobbery & scorn. the second type
is somewhere between 33 and 54, stands about five-foot-null
face like sammy the bull gravano
bumprercrop of dyed mauvecolored hair
tits out to here
she could tear
the skin off a deer
with her bare
hands plant spectacular gardenias dance the drunken
trepek with one foot
tied behind her neck & the other pushing a bouncing
down a defunct shopping mall
this is the kind of woman
i wanna know
that’s actually developed
It’s my last morning in the beautiful town of Görlitz. I love this place. Nothing got ruined in WW2. Many of the churches and buildings are 500-700 years old. Jakob Boehme, the philosopher/mystic, is interred here. I think I could stay here forever. Get a little plot of land up in the mountains somewhere. Dry my clothes on a clothesline. Hang Easter eggs in the trees. Tend a garden. Grow roses & plant things like white asparagus, jalapenos, green peppers, tomatoes, onions, and so on.
And live out my days
until someone plants me.
But in the meantime, I’ve got places to go…
“You are crazy my child. You must go to Berlin, where the lunatics are.” ~ famous 19th century song
And people to see…
“People are like dirt. They can either nourish you and help you grow as a person or they can stunt your growth and make you wilt and die.” ~ Plato
And I already know I’m not gonna die.
Not in this lifetime anyway.
There’s a train in the rain waiting for me…
and a book waiting
to write me.