I remember how much I loved
the sounds, whir and a hiss,
firm voice to announce,
nächste station – Alexanderplatz.
And there, the square that
filled with noise and stalls.
Myriad scents drifting over
my head as it wrote in verse.
Up I climbed, on marsh’s peak,
to look out on my dreams –
towers that burst from the grass,
river and canal carving concrete.
Pipes emerged from the street
like a life-support system,
painted gentle colour and ignored
for the red brick walls behind.
Block canyons scratched into earth
and stopping yellow streams,
interrupted by sudden park and
solemn memorial until horizon won.
How I loved it all, the sprawl;
deeply, truly, earnestly.
And how I long to see it again,
as I first did, love in my hand.