Lisbon Wake to the bustle smell cinnamon – sound of an accordion played by a woman with sewn eyes; Square shaped floor lantern in mosaic white glass lined with moving lobsters beggars change shifts swap wooden crutches beneath golden opening arches Hands steal from pockets that no longer hold fortunes, just empty black leather that smells of sun cream the insides full with old receipts color like dead locusts found underneath a dying tree trunk; sleeping above the bustle smell...
