the right bar

bukowski beer

The poem
was about my impressions
on a night walk at a snowy city
I thought about the name of the poem
and considered this title:
“ the disjointed impressions of a night
walk in the city”
not only alluring
but also clarifying
so that the disjointed pieces
of impressions
would be recognized
as such.

After a few lines like:
The city full
of virgin space
or
walking mechanisms

I stopped writing impressions
in a highly poetic manner
and had one quick
0.5 L
beer at one ‘happening’ bar
the beer was slurped
five minutes later
I was out and walking
looking for the next bar

I referred to the quick beer
as “having a ‘Bukowski’ beer”
when my wife rang and asked about
my whereabouts, she was
surprised when I called
her back less than 2 minutes
later and told her I was
out looking for the next bar
and we should meet up
in the new one
which I efficiently found
moments later after I hung
up
up Oranienstrasse
covered in pink fur;
I unhesitatingly asked for
a beer – which the bartender
quickly brought –
in contrast to the other place
where the bartender
shrugged her shoulders
and pointed to the menu
with a long list of local and imported beer
brands.

Just a beer – if they
bring it right away
you know
you’re in the
right bar.

nihilistic poetry

forever

long drunk night

There was enough
air
to drown us
in acts of
complete senseless
sadness
and yet
we prevailed
through the rituals
and the habits
that were already here
– no one knowing why –
we danced
and drank
cups of blankness
receding into
the lightheartedness
of a deep riotous night,
each one of us
thinking
this night
could last
forever.