Untitled Document

Berlin

Rolf now tells me he misses the Wall:
It was something to rely on
like Bertina's virginity.
It was holy writ, an instant-other
that dwarfed us,boys, with only the present.

Rolf reminds me how I used to smoke
then surf the grey spaces of Potsdamerplatz;
on the empty waves of an empty heart.
Lying your head-off about sexual conquests!

Rolf, in his turn, has his lies about history.
Our friendship was based on the end of the world.
I remind this man, this presentable professor
of our circling walks from Checkpoint Charlie,
of his drunken delight in the arbitrary swerves
that recall one soldier pushing out of the line.

Ah.... yes...my friend...divided Deutschland...
a most fine piece of conceptual art!

The Wall was safe. It held us up
as we took a long piss on its dependable concrete.
The Wall was our guide, our spiritual crutch.
We never got lost near the Brandenburg Gate.

Now, when I visit, Rolf stumbles around.
Half this city's a building site!
and I'm new to Berlin, I'm often confused
and he doesn't have time to come and play tourist.
I'm writing a paper on European Enlargement!

So I help Frau Bertina. I push the twins' buggy
around the plush creches, the bustling shops.
I can feel new belongings
through my fathering arms.

Can you believe that he calls them young Wessie and Ossie?

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