The Wanderers

There is a tradition in Germany and throughout old world Europe where journeyman craftsman and artisans wander the land and provide their services in exchange for hospitality. I only met them for the briefest of moments, but it was enough.

“The Wanderers”

 

I saw you briefly

Outside of Glűcksberger Schloβ

In your black hats,

Felt vests and

Strange winding canes

Of twisted wood.

A wry smile,

A sparkle in the eye,

That undeniable air

Of being European

That reeks to me of sex,

Weakens my knees momentarily

Like mashed kartoffeln.

Maria said you did this

For drei jahre –

Three years for your apprenticeship.

To fall in love,

Three seconds for me.

 

Author's Note

The German used in this piece is hobbled together haphazardly using internet translations and may not be the most accurate.