Like the Berlin Wall,
I have come crashing down.
In Havana,
My soul is content,
And I wish to speak with Hemingway;
He would understand!
Czeslaw Niemen,
Begging me back to Poland,
Bialogard’s simplicity and hope.
Not yet having seen,
Bratislava,
I know I would lap in its beauty,
And its pain.
Barcelona,
Oh Barcelona,
I and I unfinished,
Like Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia,
A work in progress.
A sheep in tigers clothing,
I participate,
In my own rebirth.
SDM
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