Twelve Hours in Amsterdam
Queen Maxima swims in canals beneath a Silly Tower. Clock bells ring iconoclastic rhythms for Dancing Houses. A 19th century market exports Flea Island’s name around the world, or perhaps droves of fleas hopping from old rags spread the market. A dam on Amstel River mouths this city’s name, centuries ago. Pleasant English voices speak today in my headphones. I write these words while listening to ice breaking but after the canal tour a cold wind blows me into a cafe where I order a latte and a couple inside converses in Hebrew. Later, at the Tulip Museum, I lose my money to a pickpocket’s bubble— wallet, passports, credit cards collapsed behind me, on a counter. I will arrive home tomorrow. Then I will drink upside down coffee. The clock’s odd mechanism scribes these idiosyncrasies, but sometimes I am too much of a tourist to swim in such silliness or dance along with houses.
Bio: Writer, artist, & editor, Michael Dickel’s work appears in print & online. His poetry has won awards & been translated into several languages. His latest book, Nothing Remembers received a Feathered Quill Book Award for Poetry. Other recent books: Breakfast at the End of Capitalism & a flash fiction collection, The Palm Reading after The Toad’s Garden. He is editor of The BeZine (TheBeZine.com).