Berlin

Such a long walk
Passing islands of museums
And forests of cranes
East to west, the gray lifting
Construction, Industry, mud
All that is old is neue again

Wrong turns, old friends found
Friends of my parents, enemies of the state
Round a corner and my heart beats again
Finding monologues in silence
Conversations started long ago

I’d rather speak with the dead
They have so much to say
Insane detail, childish strokes, breath
Darkness, depth, light, relief

Perhaps I don’t know the right people to communicate
Perhaps I do…
And a quiet day alone makes me

Glad to be alive.