Amsterdam
You stood in your garden, unashamed
Amid the tapestry and linen
You were framed by red neon
In the falling light of dusk
Offering the apple of your skin
I stood thunderstruck
On cobblestones of ancient ways
And the sirens in the distance
Sang out a different melody
From the one you sang to me
Your eyes did not meet mine
As you waited across that great divide
Between wisdom and a fool
For the hunger of the ages to ignite
That you never satisfy, only inflame
Vic Lortz, 1984