Erhard Hans Josef Lang
No Bars To Blooming Spirits In A Big World - Poem by Erhard Hans Josef Lang
'Why not swing me over one fast pilsner under the counter,
After all, both you and me, we live in the same village! '
Carried along the happy mood of
the date & dance house night's boiling over
the Ladies and gentlemen to each other,
the waitresses and waiters,
and the boss respectively to the booming club,
the combo's nippy-nappy musicians to
their dance tune's swaying feet of lovers,
I, the bartender, feeling myself then perfectly unwatched,
getting attracted to the one guest from
my place with a request as a friend,
my villager man got his bonus drink sideways
cunningly without the charges.
Anyhow, I took the freedom of pouring for myself,
in between the thirsty rush of all the socializing business,
all the while, one at a time,
testing all various expensive customer drinks
behind the counter always for free, as well,
something that my companions waiting on the revellers themselves
gave me envious looks for.
But sometimes it seems alright to
push on things a little with a dab
for a friendly mate to get to his lucky coin,
when a deserved sphinx gift.
Did it matter then, that I never before had
talked to the man even once?
I remembered having seen a few times his face
around our place home
from beyond a dozen of its hills
it took to get to our fair secret love-fanners' lair.
And it was on that night, I came to take note of
another outstanding male.
And from then on I had seen this slim
good-looking ladykiller and fine elegant dancer
with the imposingly erect posture
almost every other week
come over to
our club and softly carry away
the most beautiful of our regular lady visitors.
Wednesdays, and on weekends, our
happy dance-club diner Rotisserie in the cosy
south of Germany, in those fat years yet,
a five-hundred seater restaurant,
was getting so busy, that a bartender,
whose job it is to dash out all the drinks & refreshments
ordered, hardly finds a time niche to
smoke a fast faggot in between the waiters' calls.
In this job there is no time to talk
in private much to any customer.
But there is time to watch and see.
With the swinging dance rhythms always in the ears.
One comes to recollect the most striking figures among the guests
one used to have hanging around.
To me, definitely it was that one very good dancer,
with that upright posture,
a man seemingly very popular with the ladies then.
After nine months of doing that job,
all the way through the hottest carnival season,
Burnt out enough I was to quit it and lay it down.
Times of changes naturally bring people
that once used to know each other asunder.
And also I lost sight of all of them there in that club,
and the memory of my admiration for
that one imposing dancer also slowly faded away.
'Haven't I seen that face already somewhere, '
Some fifteen years later on in time,
I said to myself, when one sunny afternoon
I was on the highway on my walk home,
looking suddenly into the eyes of a stranger,
standing there, all out of the blue,
on the other side of the road,
there in the place of my long-time new chosen home
in an island country in the Far East.
And I talked to him, this time, yes, I did.
I was not an overbusied bartender anymore.
And well, it was him, that one dancer
admired once in my memories,
And he said he had thought the same as I, at once, too,
that my face somehow was familiar to him.
Belatedly, thus, I came to know of his story
when he danced yet there in the Rotisserie of the old days
(the once famous club no longer existed anymore) :
His wife had then awakened her erstwhile
slumbering lesbian nature, and shacked up with
another of the same feathers
she fell in love with,
so the poor man simply agreed to
their souls' separation on friendly terms,
and took his consolation out at
dancing it away right there
where, at the time, I was in charge of
filling their glasses.
He told me all that,
and that now he wouldn't need to
go to such clubs anymore,
since he was in a happy love liaison now
with a native girl in the Far East
where we then met.
Once I had been his unknown bartender
who came to admire him.
He then, of all
the billions of possible places in the far, wide world,
had come to be my street neighbour, for a time,
all by God's will, -
'There is no coincidences in the world' -
as my new old friend,
not only a good dancer and lover,
but even an insightful and extreme thinker,
had put it himself.
For long again he has been lost and out of sight.
Comments about No Bars To Blooming Spirits In A Big World by Erhard Hans Josef Lang
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