The poem
was about my impressions
on a night walk at a snowy city
I thought about the name of the poem
and considered this title:
“ the disjointed impressions of a night
walk in the city”
not only alluring
but also clarifying
so that the disjointed pieces
of impressions
would be recognized
as such.
After a few lines like:
The city full
of virgin space
or
walking mechanisms
I stopped writing impressions
in a highly poetic manner
and had one quick
0.5 L
beer at one ‘happening’ bar
the beer was slurped
five minutes later
I was out and walking
looking for the next bar
I referred to the quick beer
as “having a ‘Bukowski’ beer”
when my wife rang and asked about
my whereabouts, she was
surprised when I called
her back less than 2 minutes
later and told her I was
out looking for the next bar
and we should meet up
in the new one
which I efficiently found
moments later after I hung
up
up Oranienstrasse
covered in pink fur;
I unhesitatingly asked for
a beer – which the bartender
quickly brought –
in contrast to the other place
where the bartender
shrugged her shoulders
and pointed to the menu
with a long list of local and imported beer
brands.
Just a beer – if they
bring it right away
you know
you’re in the
right bar.
