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Friday, July 13, 2012

Amsterdam Coffee Shop


Music pulsing . . . nice
smoke thick as fog
pale blue.
Customers come and go
like schools of fish
the tide’s gone out now
less than twenty at the tables.
Four computers on the wall—unoccupied
were manned when I came in
expensive habit
coin fed internet.
Zink topped curved bar
runs seven meters
and then tables
one long booth beside a street-side window.

Crowded again 
Sex Pistols blasting
Seventies revisited as
six guys join me at the bar
some rolling joints
most twenty something
two Hispanics and an Asian
three Americans—one black.
Computers are reoccupied
one user searching for hotels
another reading e-mails.
Table of six order espressos
as I drink expensive smoothies
Ah . . . so good.

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