A poem that squeezes humor and even transcendence out of my obsessiveness, ineptitude, and rotten choices. I'm guessing many can relate in various ways.
My Rav doesn't understand about my bartender. I haven't ever had the chance to tell him this, but I think G-d draws me to this young man. I think She wants me to tell him something.
Thirteen years ago we first fought over Crayola markers in the Jewish nursery school...
From the moment our souls begin this journey, we’re moving toward something.
Other people delight me even as they scare me.
Intimate sharing is wonderful to a point, but dangerous and even bone-chilling beyond that point. The implications are deep and potentially mystical.
She was what was known as a bad girl and I was a goody-two-shoes...
The group I imagined was splendid. But since when is something that seems wondrous actually wondrous and not, you know, a cult, or whatever?
Some people are just scary and terrifying and we should never, ever, ever try to talk to them. That is not at all what this post is about.
