Berlin Brunches Hard (A Poem)

Berlin Brunches Hard (A Poem)

Beware hungry readers, this tale is bleak

Of Not Getting Brunch, it happened last week.

I’m not sure how long I can keep up with these rhymes

But I’ll do my best just to help pass the time(s).

 

We set off in the morn’, us travellers three

Myself and my buddies Martta and Jamie

We had no way of knowing our future mishaps

Though had one place starred upon Google Maps

 

The night before we’d been up been kinda late

Booze, chats and more, awake well-past eight

Carbs we were craving, and poached eggs, too

Perhaps we’d been luckier if our party were two*

 

We arrived at the starred place, Factory Girl

Looked busy but cozy, we’d give it a whirl!

TWENTY MINUTES TO WAIT? We can’t sit that long

Something something hangover, we had to move on.

 

To a coffeeshop nearby, just around the corner

Martta and I gave our small sandwich orders

Jamie got a cortado but wasn’t impressed

His want for poached eggs not easily suppressed.

 

Thus onward we travelled, two bellies now sated

We’d try the next stop with two hangers abated

We walked a few minutes and entered the store

To be told the wait’s 30 minutes — or more

 

The lack of poached eggs now drove Jamie mad

(I shouldn’t — but will — claim Moby to Ahab)

He can’t find them at home, they’re too much of a faff

for restaurants to make them. If asked, they just laugh.

 

So onwards we marched, hearing time after time

‘Did you book ahead? Nein? End of the line.’

By now it was nearing a much later hour

More proper for lunch than mimosa power

 

We consulted the map, with one last avowal

If nothing came up, we’d throw in the towel.

Instead of brunch spots, on a corner muy pequito,

A small local place, with vegetarian burrito.

 

While not selling poached eggs, it’s a close second place

Plus by then Jamie just needed food in his face.

Our day was half-over, we met up with our friends

And began the next cycle of finding food … again…

 

Jamie, Martta, Ellen walking to brunch in Berlin

The only photo from that fated morning. Technically all three of us are in it – that’s my shadow on Martta’s back.


 

*There actually was a table for two at Factory Girl. But if we’d taken it, you wouldn’t have this poem in front of you so are you really that sad? 

1 Comment
  • Joy Cota
    Posted at 02:57h, 19 February Reply

    Well done, dear girl. Theodor Geisel would would be proud.

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