Amsterdam 2005
Locals in lime, turquoise, purple
and tangerine blur past
between sprawling shops, pancake
or falafel cafes.
Flashcards flirt Dutch blond
to my half-Sicilian cast.
Every eye catches the eye of everyone else.
Always a breeze.
A world away that floats on bicycles:
packages hanging carefree,
two babies sleeping in one basket,
a lover's legs wrapped snug
around the biker's hips.
Tires glide up to a canopied bar
on sloped brick. Paper flaps, this poem
I pour on the tilt of mid-air.
I am visiting from where only some paintings
wear the colors
that bounce out at me.
Here the war is a newspaper anomaly
rubbing a grocery sack
low on the handlebar.
—Kathleen Adcock
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previously appeared in Moon, Trumpet and Guitar