first meeting with Lisboa

first meeting with Lisboa, 09.38 in the morning

I wake up here in this

new place

looking out at the sun

glittering the sea

my first thought

after it gets dark

who will this city be?

will it taste of salt

will it be warm, sweaty

sugar cane, orange moon

will it be hips rolling, tight rhythms, welcome shots

this evening, will it be drinking?

will it offer me drugs
will sheeps pretend to be wolves

where the curving hill meets the ocean
will the evening walk me home when I'm done

or cat call me when I leave

will this city put me to bed safely

or hungrier then before?

will it bring me music
fingers on strings
claps between hands
harmonies in perfect thirds

will it bring me thirsty voices
wet from drinks
or will it bring quiet streets, solitude
my footsteps like little needles

dropped in silence

once the light is out

how much I wonder who you are, Lisboa

that which you become
when nothing is forbidden

that is the city
I am most terrified and most excited
to finally meet

........

the next day, the morning after 

how did it feel, then
wake and stretch and think

I found myself a group (or they found me)

music after midnight

homemade ginjinha

took me to a club of red silk

a former whore house

now DJ:s playing Max Romeo

projected images

of Hedy Lamarr and golden frogs

thought of other women I love

barely dancing

someone told me his story

I told him I have poetry to write

and went home before midnight

memorised the alleys

took the right turns

proud when I made it inside the door

quiet now

except from my head ringing

the room smelled

of sunflowers and smoke

threw my shoes on the ocean floor

fell asleep with my clothes on