map to paris
poem that starts as follows

Author: Herbert Hindringer
Translator: Maria Hofmann


map to paris
i passed the park today
and if you believe it or not
our underwear is still hanging from the tree
and i am so hung up on you
that i can smell paris already
your bra in memoriam:
not fucking has never been that beautiful


the problem is:
i have everything ready that you’ve ever said

it works like this:
when i see a red vw-beetle
then i immediately think of
everything you’ve ever said about any red vw-beetle

or about a green one
blue yellow
about stag beetles dung beetles lady bugs
about driving about
not driving about the pope
about joschka fischer or about the lueneburg heath
about heathens christians and fascists
about the missionary position and how
apt i am at it

about turtlenecks rockhopper penguins rock music
about the rocky mountains
about butter mountains milk maids and holy cows

sinatra cohen zimmerman
mama papa sm
mao chili mozambique

about flasks about biermann
about drinking even more drinking
and of drowning in the mississippi

about the importance of taking a breather
and the triviality of philistines

wigs gators eunuchs
muscles answering machines cans
egg cookers purses clocks

cocaine bikinis and balconies
rock formations packet soups and tapestries
elevators candles and kitty-corners

i see the world and i think of you

and only because of this i cannot
become a newscaster
but only recite poems
about you
with blushing head
and without glasses



poem that starts as follows
are you trembling
or was it an earthquake?
and your laugh? flashback
or a real expression of joy?

these three seconds just now
in which i decided
that i can’t just kiss you after all
were like a bottle of wine:
grapes trampled by naked feet
the liquid filled in a green bottle
being labeled
and exported
and in the same breathless moment imported
sold by aldi together with trail mix
bought by a working-class child
for a nice evening
but then knocked back alone anyway
shattered at her wall
at 4 o’clock in the morning

closer i cannot get to you today
or have i shaken you
in your solid
vertical scales?

it was an earthquake they say
on the news


From biete bluterguss & suche das weite.  yedermann, 2003.