Bankastræti Blues

Your legs of lamb, Reykjavik

the red, crispy, tender, juicy

young meat and the way you swim

like a fish in the water or round and around

a juniper bush

or a sushi counter

I drill my way under your skin, Reykjavik

peek through the crack of your fresh fillets

and walk in the white powder around your lakes

Up Bankastræti

and back down

Up Bankastræti

and down again on the other side

Up Bankastræti and far out into the designer wilderness

along Laugavegur

and the vitaminized water, Reykjavik, in all the colors of the rainbow

and the little elf children

with their clear eyes

on Nikitadurinn’s tenth anniversary

I spot a glimpse of the old you

your inconquerable wind

your brutal snowfall

your sweet sun

the majesty of your mountains

It seems like you can’t really make up your mind, Reykjavik

for winter hibernation or solstice rave

I think there is a monster hiding beneath the quilted jacket, Reykjavik

a foodmonster

a drinkmonster

a dopemonster

Eat like a man, Reykjavik

fuck it and party through

After all, it’s just Saturday six days a week.