20 years ago today - Day 141

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Monday, July 22nd - Berlin to Copenhagen

Andres has the day off and I am leaving today, for sure this time, but we cuddle in bed as long as possible, reluctant to have it end. There is a special weekly breakfast for AIDS workers and sufferers that the Berlin AIDS Heife (Help) sponsors that he wants to take me to. It's a real side of the Berlin gay community I have not seen yet and I am grateful that he is taking me, but because of our reluctance to get up there isn't much time or food left when we get there. Still, it gets our day started.

At 12:30 we hurry back to his apartment so I can finish the last preparations for my trip. There isn't much to be done as I had everything ready yesterday. We say our goodbyes again but this time I arrange to stay with him again once I return from Scandinavia. I will call him from Copenhagen before I return.

The ride to Lichtenberg Station is faster today, because I know the way. I am on the platform with yesterday's ticket in hand several minutes before I need to be, but I am not taking any chances today. In no time I am on the train and settling into reading Walt Whitman. I bought his "Leaves of Grass" two days ago. I am instantly touched by his poetry and inspired to write. After only the first poem, I spend most of the afternoon on the way to Rostock writing a poem about connecting with a lover who speaks little English, based on my time with sweet, young Hans.


SONG FOR HANS

Sssshh! Don’t say a word, my love
(I wouldn’t understand)
Information, speculation
tired stories and opinions
cannot serve us now
Our hearts reject the burden
of false, imperfect words.

Come touch my cheek, my love
Come drink in Truth
with open eyes and fingertips
to trace in brave new Braille
each curve, each tender hollow
each imperfection of our hearts

Come sing the news, my love
with laughing eyes and crying flesh
of burning lips on cool clean skin
Naked love rejoices,
forgives us now our tortures pasts
and mocks all distant outcomes

Come lay down, my love,
your fears, doubts and discretions
In strong unfettered arms we sigh
fold together, swell and fall,
now rest our moistened bodies
to harmonize like hill and sky
and whisper our completion

Drift in gentle sleep, my love
with taste of sweet discovery
Filtered Sun through Dancing Leaves,
the Passing Brook, the Graceful Breeze
(your stirring hair a soft response)
all Wise Men who come to celebrate
our hot new language


At Rostock, I have to switch to a city train that fits onto the ferry to Copenhagen. The city train is smaller and does not have a baggage car for my bicycle, but I am allowed to bring it with me onto the train and secure it into a corner. The ferry crossing is a relaxing two hours. On the far side I have five minutes to catch the connecting train to Copenhagen. The conductor misdirects me to the last coach, which is first class. Later she asks me to move my bike to another car, but for my inconvenience, she lets me stay in first class and doesn't charge me the posted fee for my bike.

Once in Copenhagen, I call Kresten and get directions to his home. The instructions sound confusing and muddled but in the end I find it easily. He's a blond fellow with a slim build and a gaunt, weathered face. He's only four years older than me but looks much older. He is quick-witted and personable, and of course gay, as his Servas description made clear. His apartment is small, with his shower stall crammed into one corner of his kitchen, but he has lived here a few years and it looks settled in. Everything has its place and is arranged economically.

Kresten makes me a snack of cheeses, bread and nuts, and we talk until 1 am. I should say he talks until 1 am. He cuts me off whenever I try to make a comment so I resign myself to listening and asking the occasional question. But it is a pleasure listening to him. He has had an interesting life and covers many subjects from travel to antiques to bathing naked on the gravesites in the walled cemetery a couple blocks away. Every year he spends several months in India. He is on a permanent disability from the Danish government and his money goes much further there. Much of the time he searches for minor treasures, like engraved silver rings, and brings them back to Denmark.

Because I am gay, he offers to share his bed with me instead of setting me up on an air mattress on the floor. He promises not to molest me and he keeps his word.