the cobblestone hits my heels
with the fire of a third world war
rising up from the underground,
bloody broken bottles littering
the saturday night floors.

if i panic and let my tongue slip
into the night i might find myself
in some hidden alley, no weight
but my own to bear.

my feet are a boat on which I
float through the rivers of this city,
twisting myself outward and
embracing the swerve of new things.

I turn the key, but it does not take
immediately. I stumble blindly,
no knob, no light, hitting walls
in a drunken fury.

09/01/2006

Author's Note: I am not sure the exact date on this poem, but I suspect it was from my first days living in Berlin, which would have been the beginning of September 2006.

Posted on 10/17/2011
Copyright © 2024 Lacey Smith