Howard Firkin
The only people working are the gypsy girls,
a busker, and the surly men who serve you beer
and bratwurst on a cardboard tray. You pay for each.
You pay the gypsy girls from Bosnia who flit
off thanklessly to Burger King and buy their fries.
You pay the surly food/beer man. You listen to
a busker singing adolescent pain. It sounds
the same in any language. Pay the busker too,
and get a nod. This city thinks it’s pretty cool.
I think it’s shut. It’s Berlin on a Sunday. Guys,
I’ve had more fun in Dubbo. Loosen up, Berlin.