Wolfgang

Wolfgang sits alone in a Berlin bar Plying drink to drink's still darker state, Depressed, alone, and full of hate For what he has become. Young backpack enters and with uncertain Tongue a conversation starts, until late Drinking talk is done and Wolfgang must Depart, but bids young backpack home With prospects of a sheltered night and promise Of a warming meal some streets way, Not far. Wolfgang's wife is waiting. A meal is cooked, unsteady Wolfgang sits As wife joins to the right and backpack left, Still drinking, until now beyond himself Eyes roll, frame slumps still closer to the table. Dear Wolfgang's wife at last explains That Wolfgang is unable. "He's impotent. My husband here has brought you home", She says, eyes to the table. "He's brought You home to be with me so I am not alone At night. But see how much this hurts him. When doing this he drinks to stave the pain. And every time he brings a man, 'dear Wolfgang', Is what I want to say, 'please don't do this again.'