Mud is the median

Of dearth and flood

In this Garden of

Earthly Detritus.

The Luisenpark  Park:

little old boys playing

giant chess under obsolete

scarlet pergola

Right next to the practical

Functional, punctual Imbiss,

Come ride the lurid

primrose chain drawn rowboats

Judder and jerk through the claggy,

pissed off captive flamingos huddled on

a muddy spit

shivering under bleak gaze

submission

Resignation to the cold war grey

telecom tower.

It scares proud erect,

savoy green voluptuaries

flourish about the subterranean root

The rest is waste. A weedy, rotting hinterland

of winter ruin and neglect. As I wince a

black plastic sheet sneers at my disdain.

I lean defiant on the fork,

earth yields to the fronds.

Resistance assumes novel

steadfast lopsided defiance.