Stumbling with sacks into a nearby seat,
She mumbles about how she’ll live on the street.
“You heard it here first – I’m never going home.”
She hates her husband, prefers life alone.
In Zurich the day after love’s big day,
I’m watching platz life, enjoying a café.
But the people the streetcars boarding and riding –
Not one person do I see happy smiling!
It’s winter, it’s raining, our coats are all dark,
With beer for diversion, life’s hardly a lark?
Though, nevertheless, there’s no yelling or stumbling,
And as for hateful husbands – which Germans are grumbling?
— Poem and drawing by William Eaton