In Amsterdam we lived on Rooseveltlaan

in the Rivierenbuurt our courtyard

was a school’s playground the kids screamed

attacked each other I went to a hypnotist 

I’m afraid the plane will crash 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 hot

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