In this plastic town
pink plastic homes are lined with bright red petunias
peeking out of window boxes onto the street below,
where bells clink on Clydstales, adorned in silver and blue bows
to carry kegs down the street. Chubby-faced cheery children run around, cheeks red, Stealing sips from Papa’s stein. Women dressed in drindles, dolls in pigtails, heeled boots,
And men in leather leiderhosen, bellys hanging out of the bottoms of their plaid shirts, pretending to be modern day Hansels and Gretels. Sharing umbrellas and moonshine with strangers. Sharing songs, pronunciations, words, slurs, laughs On top of tables, stomping to the beat Of five thousand drunk and happy people: Ein Prosit! Ein Prosit! Bavaria welcomed us to it’s party with open arms.