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Dear Amsterdam

You have me.

Amsterdam dancing with my soul

Can we call for a moment, lovely

Amsterdam, please pick up the phone

      Under bridges

                        Along dancers

We were never there

together at least

That's where I imagine us

                        Becoming intertwined

     in staggered rows

a passive and open voice

to a wiser repose

on the 5th of May

    On the street with smoking mouths

                      Whispering rolling, fleeting sounds

A man on an iron-guarded porch before

a hidden cafe - with coffee and conversation

to start their day - they can be read


                    as James Joyce in May

    carefully and intently

A young lady unlocks her bike near the water

She lifts her flowered satin dress on top the white seat

and she sets off - to where, only she knows

   I sit and wonder

                   Where she goes

Three young men, long hair, intellectually un-bare

Glasses to match, locked in graceful dialogue only

slightly discernible to my American ears

                  Dear Amsterdam,

  I am amused and charmed.

I'd say you have me, but I don't decide

You take certain ones into watchful arms

with an embrace reaching into the soul

Now Reading
Dear Amsterdam
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