Unter Dem Radar

harrison ford had it made in indiana
jones part three fucking that austrian
woman in venice – ah venice – as they
slipped under that radar beneath all
the clanging sunday bells of canareggio
… meanwhile sean connery (presumably
touched himself or his manufactured wig
knowing that once they reached the castle
of the gestapo he would enjoy the last
laugh or something. how do you say good-
bye in austria
as opposed to the reich?
my german teacher was from vienna – i had
a mild vanilla crush on her (dreamt of
discipline all verbal nat¸rlich … the
classroom put-downs then our more private
humiliations … just one punch would have
been enough to force my quiet retreat to
beat off in a lavatory (a goethe institut
in a nameless & folorn balkan capital …
oh for an umbrella to scare the seagulls
into a luftwaffe propellor or two – ah
venice!
stop me before the credits roll
i’m fit to burst here with my leather-
bound journal (i confused the berlin &
m¸nich olympic stadiums – who needs
hitler’s autograph when it’s written in
the landscape the reiseplan the plastic
stein? a girl holds up two jugs with
the requisite irony (breasts heaving …
this foolish foreplay does not know it
has been tricked into surviving – i
yearn for my original impassioned cry
from cairo – some crazy mongol shouts
cover your heart indy! well of course
it must have been all those bad dates

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