nach Weberwiese

An avenue as broad as the Mississippi.
Fronted by mock classical, sub-palatial
Apartments. Splendour of the democratic
Republic. Humans off the scale. Not a
Foot soldier in sight. In a Teuton bower,
Beneath fake plastic trees, two souls grapple
Within the utopian shadow. Fending off
Mushrooms. Trying to find sense in atoms,
Veins, bricks and brains whose composition
Seems unalterable, and yet… the world
Shimmies round such constants. The avenue’s
Semiotics are skewed. Its very name, Karl-
Marx Allee, takes on a meaning never
Conceived as foundation stones were laid.
Alteration lies not in mass, but in velocity; the
Night air. The changes charged as history.