My Jewish Summer.

My Jewish summer moved me-and I was moved.
Sitting by the lake with my grandfather, Abraham,
we sang songs of past wars, remembering our ancestors.
The darkness came full force, and I could not waken
the spirit that was sleeping in me.  So my grandfather
made me a cup of hot chocolate and sang "Dance For Peace,"
which made me get up and dance-it wasn't a Jewish dance,
but Abraham laughed and poured me more hot chocolate.
By then I was getting full, but I drank to please him,
just as I did everything to please him every single day.
My job was to please him.  I married my wife to please him-
even though she has physical beauty, she does not have
my heart.  I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound
came out-I didn't think he would be interested, anyway.
The quietness came over me as the last of the flamingos
scored away over the sparkling water of the bright ocean,
and I could see their wings flapping and wished I could fly.
"The bird is the word," he'd said, and I didn't know what
it meant.