FASSBINDER’S LENS
A vision gripped me
trekked back
to the great days
of pre war cinema
tousled,
shocked and captured
an adolescent
on his La-Z-Boy,
hoping not made
by his parents
to read Baedekers
or other travel guides
when on
Berlin Alexanderplatz
just to imagine
all his characters
of running words
in a convex screen
with actors rehearsing
for history’s walls
and smothered mirrors
filled with graffiti
with a wild musician
getting smashed
on sad winter nights
when breaking glasses
under street light
close-ups.