I got married in a bathroom in Berlin. He was a broken kind of pretty. Convenience store boy, always called me on the phone. He had a nervous habit of tearing the label off the bottles of lagers he drank. When he went out, I wouldn’t see him come in and I never looked. I never really asked him about it. I found out he played poker Russian Roulette style, but I only found out because he didn’t call me on the phone. He didn’t have any secrets because I never had any questions. His funeral took place in the church and his gravestone was bought in granite.
I had my heart broken in Berlin. He was always looking away. Kept the same list for the grocery store in his wallet, never let me in without knocking first. He had a curious talent for keeping a garden of herbs and spices growing. When he slept over, I wouldn’t find him in the morning and I always called him on the phone. He had a different explanation every time I asked him about it. I found out he ran away train hop style, but I only found out because I was let in without knocking first. He had a lot of secrets because I had a lot of questions. His friends said he started playing cards at the same bar where he bought a gun in the bathroom.
I broke a promise in Berlin. She was carved out of marble. Stayed in the same aisle of the grocery store for hours, always out all night talking to strangers. She had a January vision of an intimate moment with a nectar boy in the bathroom. When she called on the phone, she had feelings. There was never anything to ask about. I found out she quit the club lifestyle, but I found out it was only because she ran out of strangers. She had no secrets because I could answer all the questions. She walked out the door without looking back and never let herself be bought again.
