A view from the window in Amsterdam

Through the open window

I see lovers entwined on the opposite bank,

Their feet dangling over a faded wooden boat,

Blue paint chips drifting on the water.

It's dusk for hours and we stagger 

Along narrow walkways as if drunk,

Merely disoriented by change and jetlag,

Quick to learn that bikes rule this city.

Do they know that we cannot avoid seeing them

As the view from our bed faces them directly, 

Until my love, the one who insists on sleeping

In caves, lowers the blinds.

I can only see them in the darkness

Of closed eyes.