Is this the end of the line?
So sorry.
Didn’t mean to cut inside your vital
soft parts.
Accident I assure
You know I make way
for ladies and gentiles. Just
wait, I will sweep the floor with
my Yiddish hair.
Slick me upside
a doorway, let me
kiss the mezuzah.
It’s fine, what’s the hook today?
What’s the catch? How
do I get to the front
of the line?
Such a creature of habit
I am, simple jewfish.
It’s fishing season at the
synagogue, cold.
My fingers are fucking numb.
What’s that at the end of my line?
It’s a monkfish.
My god, we are drowning in ecclesiastic
fish but what I want to know is where
the devil swims.
Okay cut the line.
Cut the bait in half, part for you
parting ways for me
out on the boat fishing for saints.
Jig jiggle harder.
Line them up, every damned priest.
Bend them overboard, let them
preach to the haddock.
