Samuel 9: In Writing

"Oh, to be young. To still be one's own hero." –David Guterson

On my third quest

up Yehuda HaNasi--

drop off, pickup, pickup again--



I want to believe

I am the hero

of my own story.



I feel like the car.

Or the ass.

Giddyup donkey.



Pack apple squeezies,

baby carrots, pack

crackers, nuts ,tangarines.


Nobody will eat them anyway.

In other lands, women flip 

handspring, hair flying.



In other lands, they film themselves

setting photos aflame. 

I look


at the gloaming gold

torching the trees. How it ignites

yesterday’s puddles.



We play hide and seek

in a dry fountain

under fruit-bare lemon trees.


I am not allowed

to say I see them

as they crouch

behind the wall.