An American's View Of Europe, From Berlin - 06-19-06 (A Found Poem) Poem by Chi

The Croats are tanned,
the Swedes pink,
the Poles the color of powder.

They hoist the flags of their nations
and trundle like tiny,
sweating armies under the sun.

The beer comes in big cups,
and the boats on the River Spree
glide past with music and accents
of Italian, French and German.

A Finn paints himself blue
and races through the boulevard leading
to the Brandenburg Gate -

Past Poles painted red
and Dutch painted orange,
past flags snapping in trees and songs
drifting into the dusk.

A German with a Dr. Seuss hat
dyed in his native colors
sips a beer and looks to a gigantic TV
where a ball arcs toward a net
with incredible speed.