Monday, March 23, 2009

À L'Étranger

À l’étranger in Rossacher out of the Gurtenbahn, looking out on Berne,
I could be Sweeney or Éamonn an Chnoic or a woodkerne.


From the site highland-gurten.ch near Gurten Kulm,
I can see virtually all the way home clear to Duntulm.


I met her on a Privatweg. I bent down to give her a kiss.
She turned her cheek and went: No! Not one! Three! Ah, the Swiss!


A shop full of whisky and tartan and other Scottish things. Might it be amiss
If I were to demonstrate, by way of a further example, a Glesga kiss?


On the Wanderweg, no, the Meanderweg, I stop and think of home at every turn.
Duisdale Burn. Muir-burn. Saddle burn. Heartburn.

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