In the end, it took us almost thirty hours
to hitchhike from Utrecht. The raw night
air of Dresden hung inside us; smarting
where the autobahn had spat us out and
left us brooding under concrete skies.

We'd stood apart, this close to surrender,
when the silver cavalry arrived;

  Mein baby ist der schönste kinderen!
  Jawohl! Jawohl! Der schönste kinderen!

Jakob with his one cassette. Once proud
child begat another. On we raced. Gloria,
backseat hiking sister, now slept against
a pram.

The rolling streetlights crept up Jakob's
shades like rockets, lauched into the sky.

Du weißt? I did not. I held the tiny photo
of his child and watched the wild roadside.
I willed the darkness stay outside. ******
built the autobahn. Gut für Panzer. Du
weißt? We crossed into Poland, greeted
by the broken lines of garden gnomes;
tinker, tailor...

Stopping off for sausages - du magst? I did.
The dawn smelt red above the hills. I lay
my palms upon the dashboard, felt the
purring engine breathe. I smuggled angst
enough for all tomorrow's sorrows; I hid
it in the narrowest of breeze.