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 genever; remember to bend and sip
before picking it up.
Stand aside for an army of bicyclists;
they have 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 unbeatable tenacity of creation.
Drop by The Book Exchange: donate one well-read;
leave with a promising companion.
Traverse the canals at dusk
with fellow travelers you have never met.
Break the provincial bread; indulge the chocolates, frites,
beers, cheeses. Try the soused herring.
Tell a self-deprecating joke about American tourists ──
ask me if you need one.
Everybody speaks English, but you curry favor
with your fumbling attempts at Dutch.
Wander without a destination through
the cobble-stoned City Centrum district.
Languish at midnight in your third-story bedroom window
and behold a city that has exorcised
the demons of puritan austerity, suffered and bled for it,
and emerged a wise and mischievous soul.
**First published in Beyond Words Literary Magazine
**Illustration by Morgane Xenos
