Today is Saturday Sep 20 2003.
I am sitting alone by the Spree.
Last gulp of Bier i bought for 2,30E
On bike borrowed from Rolf @ SupaMolly.
The pigeons here look like pigeons
anywhere - earth's avian gypsies.
The tourists pile onto the tour boat.
The guidebooks recommend conformity.
Had no money last night so i didn't
drink at the Uz Jsme Doma koncert.
Shot stills + movies, spent most of it
eyes closed, back to stage, foot-tappin'
on a black box, front stoop of the play.
Tried my best to enter music
or at least let it enter me.
I understood the needs of the crazies.
One androgynous type in robes
tried to finger prayer beads and
roll temple balls simultaneously.
One dropped but made no sound
at the loud concert. Rolled away. She*
rolled cigarettes and Sieg Heiled with her
buddy, who danced painfully, lost jewelry.
A dreadlocked dork flung his hair
around, threw elbows, and unbeknownst
to himself, took a cigarette to the head
from a woman he bumped into.
*i'm pretty sure

Bonus Poem: Berlinerafterthought

people need
     to live somewhere.
first, take their land.
now they've no choice
but to pay rent.

if they can't afford it,
let them beg.
those with hearts
softer than yours
will pick up the tab.

food aid to afghanistan,
the charities pay--
who sells the grain?
same ones who bombed
them in the first place.

make the rich pay, i say.
they're the only ones
      who can afford it.
(make the rich pay)
(make the rich pay)

            *  *  *

wow, i am on a train
from Germany to Prague,
9 years to the day.
9 years? no regrets.

old people are my special
friends, secret intimates.
we see how a lifetime can
     pass in a minute.