A Perpetual Burgeoning of Realisations of Absurdity

Berlin is a collection of former strangers
to their own homeland, current foreigners
in a strange land, outsiders who never felt at home
at home, anywhere, with anyone, who can’t dance
but dance, who hop from techno ballet
to being strung up in a S-Bahn opera
like a red light, dangling upside down
from the feet, who were running away
from or towards the flickering lights
of an Aldi, that market of odds and ends
where people panic, prepare for robot
armed cashiers, where they organize