IMMIGRATION

When you got off the boat
you must have been scared,
but getting away from that life
made the fear bearable.

I have no idea how you ended
up in West Virginia, it wasn’t
at all like Lithuania, and Jews
might have had two heads I imagine.

But you all made do, made
a community, invited others
and were tolerated if odd,
and I am certain you wonder

what happened, why now those
or their children’s children’s
children are so willing to shun
others whose only sin, like yours,

was wanting to get away
from horror, from persecution,
from fear, and make a life
in the hills of West Virginia.

THE BARD OF BROOKLYN?

If he were to appear here suddenly
I suspect Shakespeare would
be running a small theater group
in Brooklyn catering to an audience
drawn mostly from the LGBTQ
community, alternating productions
of gays and lesbians with Trans
and gender fluid having free choice
to reflect their true selves and not
in the roles genetics cast them.

If you asked him why, he’d say
that it was all Elizabeth’s fault, her
rule all roles were to be played
by male actors, no Joseph Fiennes
to set the old girl straight, a Puckish
way of putting it he’d admit, and
is it any wonder that a damned Scot
took the throne on her death,
he would add as a bellicose Falstaff,
she was a shilling short of a pound.

THE VILLAGES

You are driving through the Florida
that once was, that is off the coast,
and out of Orlando, the Florida
of jalousie windows, run down once gas stations
and the more than occasional double wide.
Suddenly, you are in a Disney version
of a semi-tropical New England, gated villages
where cars have been supplanted by an endless
stream of golf carts, where the Disney smile
is a permanent fixture of most every face.
In the community, as you walk into
the town center, a town square imagined
by Rodeo Drive, each night at five
a wave of golf carts arrive , to plastic
lawn chairs laid out in neat array
soon to fill with those who so well remember
when the songs to be played, and they, were young.