Writing the second book of my autobiography, I have just covered the year 1975 that I spent in Switzerland. Visiting in 2017 I found it changed, much for the better, but back then it was grimly conventional, horribly judgemental of any deviation from their iron-bound social norms. I remembered a poem I wrote at the time and had long forgotten.
Komm mit mir und mit mir schlafen
Im ein alt hotel am Freidrichshafen.
We’ll drink stolen wine from stolen glasses
And laugh at the füdeliburghers’ arses.
I will bring you traffic signs,
We’ll rip up the tickets, won’t pay the fines.
We’ll sit in church in our dirty jeans
Reading pornographic magazines.
And then we’ll walk for miles and miles
Past military tulips, synthetic smiles.
Play With Strangers 