Warsaw, Poland

Sometimes it’s hard to tell you what I saw
Perhaps I’d better start with what I felt
The road through this semi- flat country
Just couldn’t stand still! Between the frost
Heaving it and the many trucks rutting it
(I will not speculate on the work of the surfacers)
Our speed slowed and our ride was wild

Outside the fields showed their age
Fences wilted and paths lead the people
In the footsteps of their grandfathers
The buildings of brick and tile
Are transparent sometimes, falling apart
The road signs are a convention of consonants
And the sky reflects it all in gray

Yet children still find a slide to be
The center of the universe
And aliens and Swedes have laid their claim
In the shadows of the worldwide arches
Beauty can be found behind glass doors
Or upon a city block if you slow
for it, for this is not the land that time
Forgot, Just another land where no one
Could reap profit to their liking, where
the east is not west enough and the
imprint of the boot has not faded totally away.