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Amsterdam dancing with my soul
Can we call for a moment, lovely
Amsterdam, please pick up the phone
We were never there
together at least
That's where I imagine us
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
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