Berne opens herself up to me
tonight as i drink weird Swiss beer
and choke on weird reality.

but i swallow —
like i’m really not in it, and i guess i’m
actually not because i made a flighty decision
and ran as fast as i could to the foot of a mountain
a different continent all together.

escaping beyond the electric
city where the people sit and
count the cigarettes they have left
in the pack, drinking the last bit
of their weird beer, and waiting for
love to come along.

so beyond that,
theres this eccentric magic
in the modesty of a calm night
in a wild city,
where will things come together?