With apologies to Yehuda Poliker.
"To the walks"
On the beaches of Tel Aviv on weekend days
Opposite Abulafia, with his hot pita bread
Full of za'atar and labaneh and covered with green olives;
On the beaches of Herzliya with friends
Wrapped in the quiet of the secular sabbath
And the waves that swept away depression and returned world happiness;
On the shores of the Chof Hakarmel beneath Haifa on rainy November days
When it is not appropriate to swim, but rather to sit and read
To take in the strong winds that blow;
To Caesaria
As it is written in the song;
On the shores of the Kinneret on slow afternoons
Cold, blue, soft waters
And perhaps my reflections reminded me of Rachel the poet who is buried there and caused me to write this poem.
"To the meals"
Ethiopian, that opened my eyes to minorities who suffer, through strange tastes;
Italian, that did not remind me of authentic Italian cuisine at all;
Chinese, spicy;
Mediterranean, authentic;
Crunchburger, what do you want, sweetheart?
Americisraeli, the initiative to mix cultures in an innovative way;
At home, where I could try to copy the smell of frying oil to an Israeli kitchen
And perhaps my reflections in the pot full of oil reminded me to write.
"To the flights home"
Twice I returned to New York during my nine months in Israel:
Was I wrong?
Better t test myself to remain here until I go back there?
Fewer answers to that question come to me at this moment
If I could only go back to the middle of January when I stepped on the El-Al plane
Or to the two days before Passover when I decided that the holiday without my family is not real
And to review my decision about 203 Wykagyl Terrace, New Rochelle, New York 10804
That presents itself as a reflection off the parking lot asphalt.
"To the radio stations"
I can turn on the computer to hear Galgalatz and others,
But I cannot turn on the radio in that way.
Do you remember what my original goal was for the second half of the year?
I wanted to learn broadcasting at Radio Darom through their course
But I became busier in my work as an educator
And perhaps that is the worst of the treasure of decisions I could have made.
"To foreign languages"
Who knew that it would be like this, sang Yehoram Gaon, in reference to wars;
In my opinion, this phrase was more appropriate to describing the end of a student's year
Because of the hidden messages within.
I turned from a tourist (stam) to (stam) a temporary resident
And in that journey I learned to recognize the languages around me
The Russian
The Arabic
The language of the Ethiopians, called Amharic
The Spanish and the French
The Israeli English and the Hebrew of bumbling tourists who don't know even one word when they deplane
(And don't tell me that I am too proud of myself -- I know when to speak and when to hold my tongue.)
Hebrew
