Amsterdam

—the French film version

I said, Let’s honeymoon in Amsterdam.

She said, I’ve never been to Amsterdam.

I told her of the tulips, the canals;

That marijuana’s cool in Amsterdam.

Hand in hand, we strolled the red-light alleys:

A bachelor’s bordello is Amsterdam.

My German friend arrived to tête-à-tête.

He met us at The Hotel Amsterdam.

(Some years ago, we’d shared a bungalow;

But now I was married in Amsterdam.)

In a booth at the Old Church Coffee Shop,

We clinked our cafes to Amsterdam.

I purchased a pouch of sweet green ganja;

We sparked up a fatty for Amsterdam.

I blurted out something I should not have said:

We had our first fight in Amsterdam.

My friend returned home.  We all slept alone.

Our souvenir snapshot of Amsterdam.

American Poetry Journal, 2007