Berlin
Bethan Townsend

To be fair,
I climbed the Fernsehturm,
Circled the Reichstag,
Smiled under the Brandenburger Tür.

I did Sachsenhausen,
Potsdam,
Persecution.

Marvelled at the stereotypically
At the wondrous efficiency
Of European trains
Mumbled Danke schön half-heartedly.

But I only remember
(without the prompting of pictures)
The man with three fingers,
Selling “gelatin-frei” Haribo, at one U-Bahn Station.

He had marginally more teeth than fingers,
I enjoyed the three minutes of his company
and his gelatin-frei hearts.

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