…and anyway, Jesus is a mexican name

My father was a Post-reading pinko
and my mother [who worked
in Manhattan and had riding
boots but no horse] well, she was
whatever was chic that week.
I was born in the Bronx
so whenever a Jew tries his
You don’t know what it means
to be a minority…on me
I’ve been known to tell him
to blow it out the other end.
The only other goy in my class
was the Irish Catholic super’s oaf.
Green teeth and thick as a brick.
Azoy…azoy…and lately
I’ve been thinking my native language –
my real mother tongue – is yiddish.
Until I was ten, I thought the lions
in all those wide-screen epics
had finished off that breakaway jewish sect.

And in a way, they did. With the
possible exceptions of Francis of Assisi
and Gandhi…and a handful of
Quakers in sandals [who travel like
a school of fish and are often seen
holding candles worthy of sabbath seder]
I don’t know any serious followers
of rabbi Yeshoua…except maybe Eli
and Dorothy’s son Bernie.

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