It’s been a year since we were in Amsterdam and Rick Peterson wrote a poem, Kelly gave me stroupwaffles and I’m putting up this pic where we let the elderly people in wheelchairs sit and drink while we ate ice cream.

Postcards and Porcelain

There were nine of us that traveled together.
Yet, It was our Mission in Amsterdam,
not just to get postcards and porcelain
or flower-covered boxers and designer shoes

A sunny afternoon, good times and beer,
Sun and clouds overhead, while under a windmill
With Mickey the DJ and Lawerence the pilot,
Ian and Kyo saying “I know why you’re here”

Prostitution, pot and crack cocaine.
Sex slaves, dealers and Danish Deacons
The Cleft is bridging the bridges, Son-light for red-light
Queen’s Night and Day in shades of orange

Roel with his future wife, she just doesn’t know it yet.
Noel trained to Germany, but just for the day
City walk, wheelchair walk, all the way to the Dam.
Zolder 50 and bluegrass in the attic.

Was it a lost love or was the love just missing.
Lost in a city of the lost, but the Spirit lives
Naomi and Patricia, sweet and quiet spirits
Evenings babysitting, early mornings in prayer

Boy, I miss those frites and peanut sauce.

by Rick Peterson