About Freiburg, 1968

After all the years, what’s left are names. Fasnet in Emmendingen, weekend Bummeln with an upturned thumb. Breisach imperially sealed to the Habsburgs, still guarding a foggy Rhein To Bagersee, how many stops along the Strassenbahn. Ganterbier and Kaiserstuhl, Totenkopf’s volcanic crown. He snapped my picture in a stubblefield of Drachenzähne from the last world war. Schwarzwald Sundays, the path to Wendelin, patron of shepherds, a saint enshrined in birdsong.. Bodensee. That trek up Schauinsland to look for Switzerland. Donaueschingen promising 1700 miles of Danube, a waltz to the Black Sea we never sailed. Thousands of years of names. Every name to call but his.