Follow the mother holding her child’s hand
through the Red Light District.
Smile at the working girls
dressing rose-colored windows.
Spend an afternoon in a coffeeshop
with an Englishman named Bob
and a joint called Cheese.
Order a jenever:
remember to bend and sip
before picking it up.
Stand aside for an army of bicyclists;
they own the right of way.
Observe ancient church rituals
older than the promise of the New World.
Tour the Anne Frank House
and marvel at the tenacity of creation.
Drop by The Book Exchange:
donate one well-worn;
leave with a promising new companion.
Traverse the canals at dusk
with fellow travelers you haven't met.
Break bread.
Indulge in the chocolates, frites,
beers, cheeses.
Try the soused herring.
Tell a self-deprecating joke
about American tourists;
their delight is your passport.
Everyone speaks English,
but you curry favor
with your fumbling attempts at Dutch.
Wander without a destination
through the cobblestoned City Centrum.
Linger at midnight
in your third-story window,
curtains open.
Behold a city
that bled to free itself
from puritan austerity,
where tolerance
is good manners,
and pleasure
demands no apology.
**First published in Beyond Words Literary Magazine
**Illustration by Morgane Xenos
