Funny thing is
you have to
keep blacking out
and waking up
and when you
don’t wake up
they throw a party
In Amsterdam we lived on Rooseveltlaan
in the Rivierenbuurt our courtyard
was a school’s playground the kids screamed
ran and attacked each other
I went to a hypnotist I’m afraid the plane
will crash but it won’t matter
Clinton was bombing Kosovo
it didn’t matter I walked to the Tollstraat
bought weed and drank tea the weather
was bad I didn’t notice
I was playing music writing poems
time was getting older the poems
and the songs were getting worse
eventually we moved to Koningsstraat
the people were artists the poems got worse
I didn’t play music we moved to Portugal
the people disappeared the weather was good
I noticed but the sun was bad
I didn’t write poems and I didn’t play
I kept going back to Amsterdam
everyone got older and nobody mattered
the weather was bad and I noticed