Ah, the well-creased, young
pimps at the next table, slurping
Panzer pils and swapping
porno mags. One of them gets up,
knocks over his bottle of beer,
then, bit by bit, mops up with a whole
packet of kleenex across the
plastic seat. Crew cuts and
brilliantine. Dead buffet. In the jacks
nice bits. An old slap-head
plucks something from his lips.
HUMER chap. Betied. Polished.
Young pups. Randy blue. Clip-
clopping along. Vienna West, sweaty
armadillos. Smoke faster, pimp.
Topless service. Maybe one to
two hundred, on the outskirts,
workers' dives, seventeenth district. Trotting
in the rain, from an open window,
upper floor, steam.

Translated by Hans-Christian Oeser and Gabriel Rosenstock