on life, music etc beyond mainstream

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Archives: Nürnberg


Your and my impossibilities – had that been love,    
my shangrila girl,  my socialist sweetheart,
now so many years thereafter –  
I only enter time machines by sound and
sepia: back on the wet streets of München,  
1982, autumn rain (a merciless one), I‘m  
studying the road map, finally,  the kitchen  
of your sister,  all vintage,  a bathtub inside,  
where we made love, splashing water,     
fishes in’n’outside our faraway origins,   
but, for fuck‘s sake, I don‘t remember    
your sweat, your saliva, only your   
and my impossibilities, and  
my hands in your hair,   
like in that Crimson song.


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