(composed while flying out of Berlin) br br dim street colors br like brown barley rooftops br coat the sky; br at night the churning breath br of airplane engines br clogs, chokes, constricts. br and br br then br a wet, whistling cry, br like the denouement br of an old age; br at night we fly right by br the city's picture show: br women. like rags. br br dim street colors br clog my eyes br (or are those tears?): br the old age has passed br away, like old age to death.