The Michigan winter reminded me of this poem I wrote in Berlin. I would walk along the Spree river every day to my little office (75 euros a month!) where I wrote my first screenplay. It was coal heated, and at that price, terribly romantic.

The sun is out today.

Sidelong shadows on

the frozen Spree.

Last week I didn’t get

the job, or the girl.

This week the river

is covered in children.

These things tend to balance out.