A plunge in the night,

all I can see is a hat --


on the bridge railing.

Well, the usurer

was generous, nonetheless --


Was it his money?

In the sitting room

resides the old family --


in stately portraits.

I sometimes miss it:

a turban and a harp played --


for me by a boy.

The dog runs in, slips

on the linoleum floor --


and sniffs at my chair.

Do I hate my job?

No, not enough to quit and --


start doing nothing.

Think of the office

as a madhouse, then the rest --


is pretty normal.

A scientist fears

not knowing something, he flees --


into a safe niche.

Unexpected things

never startle me, I just --


respond too slowly.

Father, now waddling

from left to right, seems to walk --


on spherical feet.

In the hospital

lounge he takes a seat and falls --


asleep exhausted.

The civil servants

are angry with their colleagues:


so bureaucratic!

You are beautiful,

taste it! It is on my tongue --


it's kissing your lips.

A little flower,

delicate between sharp stones --


that's what life feels like.

Splashing, dashing waves

in the shoaled harbour: a ship --


it is sailing past.

A magpie inspects

what is trusted, what is new --


around my new house.

I have walked for hours

and I didn't see anyone --


yet there is a path.

Objects from the past,

just a few remaining friends --


nocturnal ground frost.

Out of fashion, out-dated
there's no help for it, so let me be
unattractive, rejected
because I show myself so conspicuously
and attract attention needlessly

That's how I'm seen. I am seen
and the whispering amuses me
although nobody talks to me

And you let me wait again
until the reception calls
that you are there

So I just sit here
looking out the window
I am used to it, there is nothing to see
at the back of the hotel
and it is getting dark

You always were impatient
My make-up took too long for you
and you sat angry in the car

but if I behaved exactly
the way you had conceived
you could really be sweet

You know my life and

with all your experience --


you show it to me.

Grandma is bored, she waits
for my wedding and perhaps
she fantasises that I'm getting pregnant

How would it have been
with grandfather and her in bed?
We don't talk about that

just about the afternoons
in the sun, gaining some
colour for the summer

She would have liked that, but
at that time people thought differently
Anyway, bikinis did not yet exist

So much has changed, she reads it
to me from the magazine
and I laugh at her astonishment

She is old, her hair as white
as the walls in this sun, lovely
Lu does not have to come yet

In posh clothes she walks

in the street with a coffee --


An efficient life.

He is late, as usual
It's his car, he decides
when we go home
At least, if he does come

And after the party he will say: 'Come
it was a nice evening, wasn't it?'
but if he absolutely needs to
I'll let him, I'll let him

come until he screams
for mercy - nobody can hear it
The wind will blow, the grass will wave
and I will turn around to sleep

I love him, I know why
and he should be able to do better
I am worth it, and he too
If I only could teach him

There are boys, hunting

me to a detour, I'm tired --


It is getting dark.

Your cloths are already dry
but I just let them flap
so at least something is happening
in this deserted place

You just sit there watching
taking a dip every now and then
Afterwards you carefully dab
the short hairs on your skull

I liked you better in the bar
although you were bragging
about your house and the beach
all to yourself

You showed your brown chest
I wanted to lie on it
and work on my tan a little
so nice by the sea

No, you are not social
the day is still long
and there is nothing here
to cook a good meal

The sand, lying down

and blasting up, this is how --


the beach is breathing.

On the veranda, we wait
for coolness, a fresh shower
Only with us there is light

Nobody sees us
nobody is at home
What is he thinking of?

Not of me, fortunately
I'm already hot
in my underwear

I keep quiet
otherwise he'll fancy
and that takes me too long

The nights are so short
we need sleep
no sweaty ***

Everything could be,

tonight, and it cannot be --


It's so sweltering!

The farmer has cows,

some poultry with a watchdog --


and holiday guests.

The lights are always on in the villa
with the black awnings and in
the rooms of the rear building
where you never see anyone

The tourists coming here, must be
a cover, it is a quiet hotel
Sometimes someone plays the piano -
a clear tension in the night

The whole situation makes me think
of acts that I know from films
and wish to experience
only that way:

a beautiful man who desires me
with whom I can do everything, veiled
in the middle, surrounded by lust
and pleasure as a second skin

To have something to do
the attendant brushes up the pumps
In the forest it is already dark

Here it remains light, open
if you wait a few minutes
until he is out of bed

But that is no longer the case at night
The villagers refuel during the day
and long-distance traffic drives past

The economy keeps moving
The country, everyone, lives thanks
to the network (the concrete one)

and it may take some time
before it will be automated
Then occasionally someone will come

to spray the pumps clean
the fly spots will remain
and waxing will no longer be done

Night sky, trees above

silent watering places --


on the motorway.

We've said nothing for a while
it's quiet, the sail is tight
Swell, nothing wrong
a clear day, light blue
as far I can see

And yet we all stare
at the bell buoy, alarmingly
the sound flies away
No birds, cirrus clouds
Storm coming

The war seems to be far away
There are vague tidings
about mobilization
Will it be everyone for themselves
or is there a winning plan?

I embrace my buck,

snorting fiercely, with his horns --


entangled in shrubs.

Wishing to live
in the city without
its burden, above

the chimneys, cleanly
swinging in grandma's chair
in front of the bay window

seeing the dormant mouths
of the pocked roofs
wake up without

having to smell their poison
and then also breathe it
out of solidarity with everyone

who has to live fast
in the stone world
where everything is hard

Smoke plumes everywhere,

curling up from the chimneys:


comfort, a hot meal.

On the photo you don't see
that the water stands still
and you can think

that the sea has almost taken
the land and the house
will soon drift away

A person just has to take
other points of view
to find out something

and to keep living in the world
not in appearances, not in set
pieces of one's own fantasy

empty, unless actors populate them
of whom you no longer know after a while
whether they are acquaintances of you

but your own images nestle
in your head, they fit exactly
whereas the world is uncomfortable

Salt biting my skin,

tides rinsing me out, the sea --


pulling me along.

It's still early, no customers
nobody on the way to work
everything like yesterday
the fire hydrant always ready
and night rounds against theft

Here you do your shopping
here you go to the barber
here your friends live
this is your view, your street
your neighborhood, your home

where you can sleep quietly
without scary dreams
life is very good
in order here, with neighbours
who know you all

I would die here
or go crazy, unless
I was living with you -
nothing else to do
than being with you every night

In between the ships

I'm swimming over to you:


your side becomes mine.

I imagine how I am sitting here
seen from the bridge, with the dark room
behind me, from which the hand
of a ghost could loom for a moment

to give me, out of sight, a push
so that I'll be smashed, like dictators
have it done to opponents
I sometimes dream of it

that I eliminate them and their successors
to take away the repression, I
as an unknown super woman
of humanity

It should happen on a large scale
all in one fell swoop, finally an omnipotence
that nobody can escape
Yes, if that, yes if, if

Fairy-beautiful

is the house under the snow --


No imperfections.

She bends over, her buttocks on show
while she puts her shoes away
She never looks through the window

I never can make contact with her
across the street and expose
me and my desire

It is hot, it's blowing so hot
through the city that I would leave
space in between us, caress her

only lightly, not lie against her
and first put out the light
or close the curtains, with a *****

by the window, happy to lie
awake from the heat, next to her
close to her body

Covered by the night

I visit you secretly --


That is the rumour.

I wander along the stores
which make the pitch dark less scary
although you never know who may pop up

and that would not be Prince Charming
who can break through his spell
with my love, so that instantly
the shop window is a marriage bed
with sky blue curtains

and we get an enema because
of the spurning the chewable tablets
to let go of the past
and to seal our future
only dressed in a crown

with the red plug in his ****
and the green one in mine
The girls from my work
escort us to the bed
which we mount under applause

Their hands lay us down
and rub us up
for the grand finale

The bride: a present

in tulle, the veil that reveals --


her love all the more.

Not dinner time yet, on bed
I am drawing you, your back
the book and the red candle
the almost empty mirror image

We've seen enough
of the city today and no longer
immediately jump on each other
even though we're on vacation

I love you equally profound -
looking, drawing and feeling
how absently totally present
you are, your bare shoulder

which I caress with my eyes
your full attention
for the story and for me
as soon as you put the book down

It's something from years
elusively there
even if we don't pay attention to it
or if it's absent for a while

Hand in hand we sit

together in the garden --


of our affection.

The yellow glow scares me
Already this afternoon, when things got blurry
yet I seemed to be awake for a second
from the pain in my belly

It shouldn't be, I don't want it
My belly must be safe
for the baby, hopefully
it will soon be over

here, in my own bed
oh, what is happening?
I gotta get out, close the curtain
against that dreadful moon

All is well, the doctor said
but I couldn't get up
and not thank him
I just lay there

Guy smiled and the doctor shove
something into me, not as nice and sweet
as I am used to with Guy
not even in my wildest dreams

Before they can speak

angels always have to wait --


for a listener.