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Berlin Alexanderplatz

It's blue-black on the Alex

she stops

dead drinks in the sounds

the texture the shape the hard

squareness

of this word this name

pulsing

silver blue red

every colour

wrapped in grey wool she is a fragement

fluttering a curled

wisp of burning bright paper

slender and tiny

laughing grasping the kaleidoscope

this is where:

this is where:

she lies down and the television tower

rears above her

blinking

east west east


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