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A Meeting

A woman sitting alone raises her glass and smiles. This has never happened to Rabbi Feltman before. He is not sure how to react. After a moment he decides to nod in acknowledgment and raises his own glass.

Chocolate

A Swiss boarding school, a twig from a licorice plant, a chocolatier

A Priest Calls On Sunday Night

Gopher

The old man is sitting in his newest hole, a big one, half-concealed by the hedge. I squat beside it as he explores the dirt with his hands. Our lawn is a rough and violent landscape; everywhere there are angry holes, wounds that are unable to heal.

Sunrise, Montana

My God, he was a beautiful man. The way he sat on a horse. Or the way he rolled a cigarette. Charlie Freeman. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Mistaken Identity

I want to love myself the way a stubborn question loves certainty, loves it in spite of itself.

Going Out

A three-thousand-pound slab, a pair of sunglasses and a book, a sprouting of wings

Born Too Young: Diary Of A Pilgrimage

(Part Three)

I don’t feel a thrill of nationalism here, like Dad does. He thinks, wow, a country full of Jews. I think, oh no, a country full of Israelis — another language I don’t understand.

Trying To Quit

Show me someone more ridiculous than a jogger smoking. I can do five miles on the track, but only with cigarettes. Show me someone more dexterous and adroit than a swimmer on her back, floating, sucking on a cigarette like a submarine. If I am conscious, I am smoking.

Native Tongue

The trail had become steeper, winding past low trees and tall, dry grasses. Here and there were patches of snow. I tried to gauge how far there was to go, but rock outcroppings blocked the view: I couldn’t tell whether we were nearing the peak or merely coming to a change of grade.