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Poem: Amsterdam 

Their well-known tolerance
Does not extend to pedestrians
In the designated bike lane.

Anne Frank’s house had a long line
Even in the off-season
And cost too much besides.

The Sex Museum was more fun anyway
And aren’t we all
Jews and Gentiles alike
Prisoners of sex?

Don’t judge me
For looking in a lustful way
And not feeling the least bit sorry
For the third-world woman in the window
In the sin-red panties
Smoking a cigarette.

This is Amsterdam
Where van Gogh lost an ear
For love
Where coffee comes with cannabis
And is served below sea level.

Who am I to question
Whether this is right or wrong
Or when the great flood comes
Whether the levees will hold.

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