IRELAND, 1999

I gazed at the beer glass. I could have sworn
Weeds had sprouted from its sides.
I could have leapt into the Irish green
But my father was sitting opposite
Talking.

For someone whose soul is restored by peanuts
The place to be is Mahane Yehuda
And not in this room, where the soul is
Put to flight by stomping and fluting.

I gazed at the glass. I could have sworn
A boy just like me danced about on the rim,
Could have tumbled into the foamy lexicon of sorrow
But my father asked me
How I was.

Whoever has questions buzzing in his ears
Should take another sip
Should utter curses.
On the wide screen an Irish player sent
Spinning into the English net a ball just like my head.
That eruption of joy
Is something I’ll never forget.

אירלנד, 1999

אירלנד, 1999