IN SWITZERLAND Poem by Danie Marais

In Lucerne the white swans float
on the glassy turquoise clarity of the Reuss
past 16th-century Baroque decor
and past snowy mountains.

In Lucerne in the hotel room later
you cry that you love me
but sex in an established relationship
is difficult for you a bit
too much like old slippers,
like habits,
you're sorry, you really love me, but
I am already here
in this broken-down Old World hole
in this insulated place
where dreams decompose into empty echoes
so unremarkably.
I hadn't thought
that I would ever come
here with you;
never really believed
that I would one day look at you
through borrowed green eyes
as a tourist looks
at the cold postcard swans
of gentle Lucerne.