I left my money on the streets of Amsterdam
It went up in smoke,
Chicken wings and Coke

I left my soul on the streets of Amsterdam
If you find him, he is old,
Be nice: the streets are cold 

I left my wishes on the streets of Amsterdam
An old-timer told me of the fairies
They grant wishes:
Look for them on the ferries

I left my hopes on the streets of Amsterdam
If they find their way home
Their adventures should fill a tome 

I left my heart on the streets of Amsterdam
It was lonely
Maybe it will find a partner – nice and homely 

I left my passport on the streets of Amsterdam
If you find it, don’t find me
It is right where it wants to be:
anywhere but with me

I left my past on the streets of Amsterdam
It has found friends amongst the ghosts and shadows
But it still manages to furrow my brows 

I left my body on the streets of Amsterdam
Frozen solid
A feet beneath the snow
Do not dig it up: not with the hoe or the plough 

In Amsterdam Centraal

NOTE: the piece above is not meant to convey a negative view of Amsterdam: a truly lovely city. Though I have no intention of throwing away my passport, what I said about my passport in one of the stanzas above as well as the last stanza should give an idea of how I feel about the city were I to be jobless or in a tight fix 🙂


The Old Woman

The Old Woman

Standing still at the stop
The old woman tripped
I reached out a tentative hand
She had a firm grip
“Thank you” she said

We stood side by side in the little shade
Watched as the mid-day heat relented
And birds took to the skies
She said nothing
Neither did I

Her silence spoke to me
Of a long life
Of happiness, sadness
Of disaster and redemption
Of failure and success
Of possibilities unencumbered by age

The next bus went nowhere I cared for
She got on the bus.
“Thank You” I said.