Thursday, October 04, 2012
The Blue Wonder
In Dresden, I wore my hippie skirts; rode the streetcar up the steep, burned-out inclines; walked, while sick, to the wet basement pizza place, and waited for you to tell me you loved me. You didn't tell me you loved me, at least not then, because things were complicated, and God, this was Dresden, where the sky, even when the sun was shining, was ashen and absent of light. And because you hadn't told me you loved me, and because the ladies at the desk wrongly assumed we were intimate, they made us sleep in separate rooms in the hostel, while the wind, with terrifying gasps and shrieks, lunged out of the forest. You tried to tell me, gesticulating wildly about the depths of human unkindness, why our visiting Dresden was so important, how the rebuilt Frauenkirche was a symbol, against all odds, of hope, but all I wanted was to catch the next train to Prague, to rejoin the living, to pin you, in defiance of all that rubble and destruction, against the broken bridge with my hips. We walked the banks of the dirty Elbe, not holding hands, you pointing to spires, while I waited, not knowing what would happen, for bombs, for fire, but mostly for peace.