Nieuwmarket, Amsterdam. . .

the autumn market

 

think of the light:

vaporous from

a distance, flickers

of color, think of

the merchants:

koffie boy wheeling

his cart, old blind-in-

one eye on a bench,

looky see best quality,

temptress from faraway,

half-veiled, eyes

like burnt almonds,

twin sisters with toddlers

in tow roped to their

waists, budgies flitting

and shrilling in ornate cages,

aromas, bolts of cloth, swatches

of this&that, sizzling meats,

knockoff Rolexes, Gucci, Brunello,

jade, topaz, gleaming mother

of pearl for the tourists, someone

grabs your arm, someone flashes

eyes with you, others drift

past, thunder crackles

the sky, air a smoky incense

wafts about you and you think

of a religious procession

of which you are a part,

wandering slowly, aimlessly,

like life toward an uncertain

destination with nothing

to show but a few trinkets,

souvenirs you will soon forget

when the bus comes as you wait

silently in line for those strangers

and family talking softly ahead

who seem reluctant to leave.

 

--Miguel de O

 

Done