It’s another one of Van Gogh’s nights.
Hanging out by his sidewalk café
I thought I saw you,
but you blurred into a background
of sunflowers and wheat fields.
Show me the ripples in shivering water,
gripping the boats
under the Langlois bridge.
Show me purple irises painted in pieces,
then smeared, melted and relaxed into each other.
I can watch you give directions
to Van Gogh’s museum, for hours.
I can spend the night looking for
the wrinkle of your lips
as they form hazy expressions.
I stay for one smile.
Then slip into a starry night,
towards two abandoned sailboats
beached on Holland’s shore.
Katrina Guarascio
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/van-gogh-s-amsterdam/
