“Time means nothing to a hog,”

he said

when relatives were late

to Thanksgiving Dinner.

“Where do you want to starve —

On the East Coast or the West?”

he said

when I told him that I wanted

To go into acting.

“You deserve to live

in a Volkswagen bus

with flowered curtains,”

he said

when I tried to explain

to him

how I found fairness in

the concept of the Kibbutz.

Absalom! Absalom! I think,

hearing these shifting narratives

that have nothing to do

with life as we know it.

“Let’s pass this little man —

in his camper,”

he said

as he screeched past

the RV he was tailgating.