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Rated: E · Poetry · Travel · #2195554
I come for a vacation, but discover it's the wrong street.
I had to scoff at Bismarck street
’tis not the street I thought it’d be
I might as well have pork to eat
I’m now a Berlin refugee

(And in no way do I slam pork
  but in this state I am forlorn
  a traveler who’s popped his cork
  in Germany the plans seem torn)

A foreigner in town am I
vacationing a cool delight
yet now with scoff I also cry
because the street is just not right

Is there no one to hear my woe
to help me off a slippery slope
I carry Euros for my dough
but now sans house I’ve little hope

Another town the name the same
Charlottenburg where things are quaint
Bismarck is there—that street again
the wrongness here is my complaint

Now overseas in comfort stole
silk-smoothness out to failure bold
in Europe pluck me from err’s hole
into some setting I can hold

Ah gracious operator wise
diplomacy so good for life
my mood I certainly despise
across the pond amid such strife

Oh mother father treasure trove
around old Sol do we revolve
for me some kind Berliners drove
thanks German Bureau of Resolve

32 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
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