>i called you Shakespeare, that’s roughly
what your name translates to.
we met in Munich for the weekend
some time after dead end summer love
‘cos letters never bridged the winter.
small village and you didn’t fit in,
dreamer, vagabond and Tolkien fan,
we sat talking books for hours,
smoking Camel, walking barefoot,
laughing summer into wings, glued tight to
country lanes and bloomed between
black printed sheets, Tubular bells and the
all-knowing smiles of small town gossip.
for a long time, i met no one
who could kiss like you.
we had no money and the room, we spent
the night was small, electric waves were
creeping up the walls like roaches.
i sometimes wondered how it would have
been, whispered rhymes into my ears while
tossing me towards the Shire. but you were
Aragorn and you had promised
not to touch me,
so nothing happened, yet everything changed,
i got lost in the eyes of the prince,
and for a long time didn’t find the exit.