abusing analogies; time to move to a new room,
we look at the larger picture.
weekends mean music, no robots.
the shine (shave) of my youth long gone,
reality is finally visible through life cycles, repeating.
(are you questioning the Book of Mark? “I don’t believe in it”
Star of David) the photographs arrive electronically. I’m holding
the little mother. Angel mother is holding the legacy, moving
forward in plain view; we passively witness
the divine win limited notice. ho-hum. Thy Kingdom come.
are you really going to just give up? (not what I would have
expected from a true, full blood descendant.)
on to Israel, where Italian planes bombed Tel Aviv and Haifa
during the war. (the war’s Jews slaughtered with the queers.
gas ovens.)
Aliyah is the secret word. Hashem.
so, the spotlight is a cheesy bright, too white light,
dancing in it is the legacy I honestly inherited. birth, blood, genes.
Fred Astaire?
in hiding is the metaphor, Hashem.
in danger? yes.
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