stained glass city ~
i tied his shoes on whale street, the least i could do,
while trying not to smell six days worth of namaqua & filth on his stained trousers.
he has a name i never cared to ask when i knelt on the tar with his dirty laces wreathed around my tattoos.
i see them there.
mostly when i wonder why i stopped while the suits walked by.
faceless & self-important, their eyes studiously averted from circumstance.
coffee from haarlem & hope rests on chipped paint.
apparently maasie & his penchant for the twenty sixes occupied space before i planted my ass beneath a pear tree from the 1600's.
the table cloth's dirty. black against the sky. ominous above the city bowl oasis.
soon you couldn't walk for the south easter.
skep jou van jou voete af.
barefoot in the malay quarter, the earth trembles below signal hill.
cinnamon & coconut.
calls to prayer.
then silent as the kramat tucked between neon streets.