Found Poem

4/7/04
"Bottles in tow--not two, but in fact a lone merlot
Bittersweet, fragrant, reminiscent
The best kind to share with best friends
(Or ex-lovers)
I can never pull the cork out without it spilling, but you know that
And you are the only one who appreciates the clumsiness for what it is
Absolute sincerity...
In that case, do you remember?
I wore the plastic framed glasses for you, with my intertwined fingers around your ribs
And waffles with the obviously fake blueberries (they taste stronger than the real thing
sometimes) are still my favorite breakfast.

But back to the conversation
And shared wine between friends
(Or ex-lovers)
Discussions of books and art and life and everything else that matters (or doesn't, depending on the day)
And discussions of the weather
Whoever said that talking about rain was small talk never made love in a snowstorm
Or sat in a red chair reading Foucault or Flannigan with thunder and lightening in the foreground

Schelling in the sun says that the history of God is a history of the world
But in the rain his god unfolds all of history into my subjective moment
And all of memory
And all of wishfullness
And nothing at all because moments don't really exist in time."

I found this poem in the paperwork I brought with me to Berlin. I wrote it several years ago, but I found it interesting that my obsession with weather and philosophy existed even then.
The weather today is nieselig--dank, drizzling, dark.