Jessica

I catch a whiff of bitter almonds,

the eyes that mock me sign the way,  

as I sigh in search of lost time

in Bahnhofstraße Saarbrücken. 

Our discussions about the magic 

in Euler’s formulas flash before my eyes,

Comptine d'un autre été : L'Après-Midi 

plays in the background, 

interspersed with Billy Joel’s 

scenes from an italian restaurant, 

Memories of dinner dates in Princeton 

with my awful jokes and your enchanting laughter, 

engulfed in your afterglow, 

make their appearance too.

They say there are parallel universes: 

let us go then, you and I, into one

where your words 

Du triffst dich immer zweimal im Leben

(we’ll meet a second time)

come true and 

in idyllic Rotorua we build our lives.