east/west

I can recall lying awake in a foreign bed,
Inhabited by a vague dread of the other
Side of the wall. The end of that world.
Night sounds boxed into new shapes by a
Subtle claustrophobia. The other day, we
Strode across the boundary, leapt the
Hemispheric divide. Only the traffic lights
Signal a trace of the lost divide. Still.
Beyond the Mexican joints, the empty
Checkpoint, the liberated bars; beyond
Marketing and architecture;
The East remains the East. The West’s
Antipode. The weight of time might elapse
Unto collapse, but this will still hold true.