I liked the way when she got angry or frustrated
she’d start speaking in her native language (Deutsche)
which always sounds angry anyway to outsiders
and then look at me expecting a response
it would then dawn on her I didn’t know what she was saying
and she’d smile or laugh and say “Well?”
maybe she dressed a little old-fashioned
wore a hat in style years and years ago
still she looked beautiful in her own throwback way
sausages or wiener schnitzel every night
a side of spatzle
generous glass of schnapps
maybe she drank a little too much
no, she drank way too much
I poured her into the car and into the bed many times
but none of us are perfect you know
when she was feeling melancholy
she’d sometimes say “nobody loves a German”
I said “except another German.”
she asked “Are you German?”
I said no, she might held a grudge
I loved her, but I never told her I was half-Russian
she was Barbarossa invading my borders
so I put up a resistance and threw her back
sometimes you win the battles but lose the war
