TUEBINGEN AGAIN

I come back to you

when I am feeling hopeless,

when I am in despair of the heartless.

I trail my hefty books through Customs

to reach you,

to plunge into your depths,

to swim in the mystery of your streets,

the beauty of your trees,

the melancholy of your seminar rooms.

Yes, Tuebingen,

it’s me

looking for myself once more

in your troubled mirror.

So I dive

into La Boheme

and back and back and back

into the Boulanger.

So I stagger

out of Hades

and into the arms 

of the Neckarmueller 

to feed the ducks

with scraps of my trembling poetry.

Your Hoelderlin Tower

always makes me feel sad.

My body droops like a weeping willow

as my mad muse floats up river

to liberate new dreams,

to greet fresh friends.

I sail in your skies

in a Lufthansa trance.

Let me sing

of all that’s good in Swabia

for you.

Let me wish your lovely children joy

and then let me break my heart again

when I have to leave you.

KEITH ARMSTRONG