and as I ride
through the Lincoln Tunnel
(in Rutherford on my way
to the bus station
I passed by a rock
on which was a plaque
made of
copper
inscribed with
the Gettysburg Address
and seeming very out of place
in New Jersey)
reading about a Jewish woman
who never existed
but was loved
very much
by a Jewish man who did
I again think of you
(and this woman who never existed
loved this man in return
she wrote letters to him
and he shows them to
their daughter
who was actually adopted)
and in the Port Authority
I walk by another
old Jewish man
who probably exists
as I wait for a young
Jewish woman
who doesn't exist to him
but does to me
(she also writes me letters
that I might show
to my daughter someday
but I probably won't think to)
Dearest Yankel, she begins
who never existed
(the old Jewish man
walks by again
perhaps also waiting
for a young Jewish woman
who
in subtle imitation of she
I'm waiting for
has not arrived yet)
and I picture you hand
penning words to me
that were written long before
either of us were born
by someone who never was
(Gary, she begins
who is late to meet me
and I'm getting impatient
– unless that's her?)

08/06/2002

Posted on 08/06/2002
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