Cold East Side. 1994.

As I stared out the window on the cold, East side.

A magpie came to me.

I , from English superstition,

Said ‘good-morning’ po-lite-ly.

“1 for sorrow

2 for joy

3 for a girl

4 for a boy.”

Somehow its feathers, stark and bold,

Held Berlin’s story , in each fold,

and bright distraction.

Black and White.

Cold duality.

East and West.

Now mixing into a meaningless shade of grey.

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