Ezi keeps remarking on how people in Japan kept their cars clean, and even washed off the tires.  And we came back to Israel in the middle of a dry dusty spell. Here’s a draft:

After the last dust storm

We drove to the car wash

To be made new again,

And waited in line by the grove

A boy was standing there on a trash bag,

And beginning his preparations for prayer,

Opening his ears and kneeling down

As we were moved on the grooves

To the showers and brushes.

When we emerged,

I looked for him

But he had finished his prayers

Disposed of his trash bag

And gone back to washing cars.