Poem 17 of 230: THROUGH WHAT WAS

During Europe's summer, '88,
    At a wall my bag was checked:
A brief smile at what gave it weight;
    Sun-cream lid back - mood unwrecked.
As I bought crispbread, with money changed,
    A row began, at counter,
Between two, it seemed, Germans estranged -
    Clothes, to me, the sole pointer.
I headed back through the wall that was,
    Then signed a reunion book.
Reflecting, I'm happy/sad because
    The Left-cause, too, has been shook.

From walkaboutsverse.741.com