poliphilo

COLMAR BLUES

I've never been to Germany.

No, that's not true; once in my youth

I stepped across the border at Freiburg-

Handsome town. On the city wall

Are markers showing where soldiers fell

In the 1870s.

Later we drove

To Colmar- which these days is French-

And saw the Grunewald altarpiece-

That great hysterical, cinematic

Tribute to a dying god

That Huysmans made such a fuss about.

They keep it in a cool, white room

All by itself. Then I went off

On a private mooch. In a shiny bar

I downed a glass of Kronenbourg

And fell in with a group of kids

Who gave me the usual kiddie-bleat

About how little there was to do

In their dull, old town. It was getting dark,

With half an hour to dinner time,

So I went and sat in a park and counted

Sycamore leaves on the damp path

Under a marble monument

(It might have been of Marianne

Or a stoic poilu) while a boy

Rode a bike with stabilisers

Round and round and round the plinth.

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