To Prater Park in November

Cold and stark, 

Damp in his bones

Wandering from Zentralfriedhof

Stripped branches clawed grey skies

 

Meeting her at the Riesenrad

Coffee to fortify ragged nerves

At the Cafe Central

Old ladies with little Dogs

All their boyfriends were blond

Muscled Teutonic Knights

 

Oma eyes him and tips a wink

The only blond blue eyed Jew

In the house

They could spawn such masterly kinder

She would call them Bubala

But history put paid to that

 

In the ferris carriage at Prater

They meet

At its apex they kiss

His hand inside silk

She melts

The cold escapes their bones

And passion warms their frozen souls

 

Vienna after the War

Was where the war endured

Such meetings of clandestine clutch

Meant nothing

Well, nothing much