Wolfgang
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A backpack memory, passing through Berlin in 1969
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.'
Copyright © Bob Kimmerling | Year Posted 2020
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