Trabant (Dieser Film Breuht Auf Einer Wahren Geschichte) Poem by Matthew Christopher

The Trabant leaves its cramped garage,
it leaves behind a small pool of colour.

Headlights,
Streetlamps cut the mist that hurts its rusted shell.
Smoke rises from its hood.

It's early,
the streets are empty.

Freedom comes at an incredible cost.
Roads, sidewalks too are expensive.

To the countryside! to the Autobahn!
To the open road and the cliff's edge!
where the air is dry and the crowd waits waiving flags.