Warsaw

I've got a pierogy full of Polish memories in my head more dense than the peacock population of Lazienki park
(Mmm pass the lard)
I can't get enough "bird's milk" inside my chocolate,
a perfect prize after walking past half the city to find metro tickets.
One line from Imielin to Pole Mokotowskie to Centrum but I'm still lost,
I need to find the rotunda but I'm down under the Palace of Culture,
wondering how this piece fits in with all the new shiny skyscrapers around its perimeter.
You see, Warsaw is a contradiction between now and before fueled by memories of communism and war,
it's an unfinished story where past chapters bleed knee deep in places where today plaques commemorate how many were shot and when.
Meanwhile across the river in Praga, another world is formed in the shadows of old tenements,
people work, drink, and live like they did 20, 50, 100 years ago,
always under the watchful eye of mother Mary, who's figure is it up beautifully in every courtyard.
Yeah I got a pierogy full of Polish memories with a side of fried pork chop photoshopped from 1980 and served in a milk bar,
where I sit with a homeless man to my right and a business man to my left, wondering how a place like this could still exist.
It's another contradiction in a city that is beautiful despite being defined by gray Soviet era buildings mixed with reconstructed remains of lost architectural treasures mixed with new office complexes and an old town which isn't old.
My head is spinning just thinking how this combination of contradictions can exist in one place, in the city of Warsaw.