Back from Iceland now
   I remember
The land of forever day forever night

Walking down the long street
   Laugavegur
Past houses of corrugated steel
   The look of corduroy the feel of industry

Across the bay from my hotel window
I see Mount Esja
   and through the clear hazeless air
   I see fifty miles beyond
Tomorrow I will go to the Blue Lagoon
   and bathe in what looks to be a steamy circle of hell 
   reserved for tourists

I had remembered this place 
   for decades before I first came

The bus rumbles from Keflavik, where I landed,
   across volcanic stubble,
   to a city with stiff-armed statues
   of historic figures I never studied

Seeing ducks in Tjornin lake 
   that have followed me from Boston's Public Garden
Some are new, not found in my Peterson's Guide
   The warm water draws them
They dive
   They bicker and scatter
They are still there 
   when the sun touches the horizon at 22:30

A woman walks up 
   And addresses me (me, a 60-year-old obvious Jew) 
   in Icelandic
I reply in English
   but I guess I am now an Icelander

The warm water draws me
   and the sun is still lingering above the horizon.


5/3/98

Return to Home Page