Copenhagen 2016

Next door to the Tibetan temple
Innuit workers play cards
and drink beer,
there’s a pyramid of bliss
for sale on the bar.

How did I wander into this enclave?
Chance on streets of
fairground-crooked houses,
the market-place continual party
says roll up here
for a fat slab of Lebanese

and across the road, an anarchic saloon
is heaving with cowboys
who seem to smoke and smoke
but never lose control.

No running, shouting or photographs
through a sculpture surprise:
blow torch art and welded steel
and everyone’s naked
in the sauna.

You are now leaving Christiania,
entering the European Union.
A battered sign informs.

John Short