When you were gone I heard a lovely song and the only word I knew was strawberry punch: I looked it up.
The word is this: Erdbeerbowle. I can’t pronounce it. Where is the strawberry in it?
Then from it I started to think of the wonderful memories we hadn’t had,
And maybe in them we’d gone to school dances together, which didn’t exist,
And drank strawberry punch and under the sparkling white stars late at night even kissed.
Maybe we’d slipped away with overflowing glasses of it and drank it until our heads spun and our lips turned pink.
And maybe afterwards you’d taken a white blanket out of your car,
And laid it under the stars,
And laid me in your arms.
Maybe we’d kissed with strawberry mouths and flushed strawberry cheeks or
Fallen together into sweet strawberry sleep.
Maybe we were very young and the future was still inconcrete.
Maybe it was right and maybe it was even the first night of our entire life.

Or maybe it was ruined then too and I looked at you with loss when the glass broke with a dull crunch.
I remember there was strawberry punch.