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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

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Dear Amsterdam
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