The Waitress - 7.11.25
I had my eye on her from the first moment we sat down. Efficient, good-natured, pretty, witty – where will I find the flaw?
I was in the mood to find flaws.
But she was so perfect . So I started talking to her, about the weather, the view, the usual. And then we hit on something – and she said she wasn’t allowed to talk about these things in public. Public? We said. We’re friends! And she said – remember 1995. And she left.
I remembered – it was the year our hope died.
The Hope
Karen Alkalay-Gut
On the night Rabin died I dreamt I wandered the streets
homeless and lonely in a crowd of confusion, ricocheting
off relatives and friends barely regarded, while dogs of peace
ran with panthers and tigers all loose and all free.
No one was working — everyone
out on the streets or in groups
sleeping in different houses, using
interchangeably each others’ phones —
connecting with wrong numbers
saying a few impotent words,
disconnecting indifferently
Unseasonable cold penetrated my clothes,
and uncoated I sought shelter
in cloaks of the dead,
but found myself in other byways
before I could wrap myself in them
The river was solid and the earth
liquid under our feet — the worst
walked on water while the best
fell in the treacherous sands.
Nothing held the dream together
and everything could fall apart
at any random moment
The Waitress – 7.11.25 Read Post »