Damon Hubbs

Amsterdam

the potato eaters is on loan
peeled & disrobed 
from the museum wall

& then the mushrooms
the magic ones, not the trip truffles 
which are magic-lite & 

the little printed card from the hotel lobby 
cheerfully suggests the bad feeling will pass
coca-cola can help, fruit juice, a walk

dredging thought-shards the next day
like drowned bikes from the canal
we bench it, drink Heineken tallboys

could be worse
(dead after jumping from a bridge near IJ-tunnel—)
(Frenchman stabs his own dog after eating hallucino—) 
could be. But

bereft, we wonder if Amsterdam is bust 
until the girl in the lobby of the Anne Frank House 
asks if we want to party 

the poor taste 
of animal shamelessness 
fumbling at a moral-zipper

twenty years on
I still feel bad saying yes 
but the bad feeling will pass, 
always does