Do you remember Gesundbrunnen –
the darkest point of Berlin’s cross
where the Nordbahn train drew in so slowly,
and as more passengers crammed on, we lurched off.

The Baltic beaches would be paradise –
but ticket does not translate to seat, in late July.
A child wailed, and others joined the chorus.
Families sat on the stairs, swayed in the aisles
and like dreamers in deep water, we swam through them
fuelled by Hörnchen and Brezeln at the Hauptbahnhof
into a green-glazed tunnel under Gesundbrunnen.
Not to endure hell was Eden enough.

Enough to visit the Spree, or even the Havel.
Plans and platforms may change; they must.
The compass gives direction by its motion –
a glimpse of North completes Süd, West and Ost.