Sitting with Goldelse.
Hansaplatz, as handsome as past futures,
trim and orderly, straight as the road to
victory,
lined with tourists, families, me-a-snapping,
then sitting with Goldelse in low light,
inhabitants rolling round and by,
thoughts deep as purple, holiday wonder,
placid, wide, wandering eyes,
spying rabbits, working turf, as the day so dies.