Poetry by Michael Dickel : Twelve Hours in Amsterdam

photo from Pixabay

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).

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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