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  Ulrike Gerbig
   
     

Welcome to the Mediterranean
 

 

How they speak
With their hands
Their eyes
Not just their voice
As penetrating as
The ever present
Scooters
Which pierce
The luke warm
Nights and
Sleep
As omnipresent as
The relentless
Sun beating down
From a sky of
A blue
So immoderate
It turns
White Skin
Bright red
There is no hiding
No escape
Here
For a timid
Northern soul
Still
The whole thing
Seems to be contagious
Nordic melancholy
And long winters
Make susceptible
For all this
And thus many
Return
Drawn like bees
To honey
Crusaders
In search of
The holy grail
Of olive oil
Red wine
And passionate
Living

 



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