During Europe’s summer, ‘88,
At a wall my bag was checked:
A brief smile at what gave it weight...
Sun-cream lid back - mood not wrecked.
I walked past plain buildings and cars,
And entered a small food-store.
Its goods were plain, also: no sweet bars;
The essentials - not much more.
As I bought crispbread with money changed,
A row began, at counter,
Between two, it seemed, Germans estranged -
Clothes, to me, the sole pointer.
I headed back through the wall that was,
Then signed a reunion book.
Reflecting, I’m bittersweet because
The Left-cause, too, has been shook.
(C) David Franks 2003
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