After much phone fourplay and casual rolling in the grass, we find ourselves on the banks of the great river, forging our path between trees all growing against the great current they flank--trunks extending not toward the sky, but upstream, at some 20 or 30 degree angles from the ground. Climbing out upon the stone protrusions that gate and funnel the great river's flow, we are observed by creatures of the purest black--the elders, solemly holding court on a rock formation upstream from us; youngsters soaring in broad circular and oval paths overhead, baring splashes of white that clothe the underside tips of their broad feathered wings.

Ari (moaning with delight): What are those? Pelicans? Buzzards? Vultures? Crows?

Alex: Let's play dead and see what happens.



I now have an image for the word soar. Incredible. To fly--simply by effortless extension of the limbs. We fall from great heights and spread our arms to no avail.



On a river-bedded rock formation I meet a large limb, belonging to a long-passed tree. Dried wood, once a vigorous brown, whitened almost to dull ivory. Roots and branches indistinguishable: the entire ten foot limb, of uniform texture. At one end, branchings converge and diverge to form a portal, as might be found on the magic staff of a giant wizard. We watch as the sun makes it path above the black creatures



Whitecherryblossomed paths and small bamboo families accompany me through Potomac heartland into Rockville to Nomi and Jackie, (and Shoham--to whom I appear as a monster so fearful that she cannot but bawl and run away when she looked at me.) Then again into Potomac for:

Jackie to feed me extensively

Nomi to receive a massage from me

All of us to discuss music and monogamy



Barefooted drive to back to Rockville to Ambrosias, to pace and drum on counters and abuse the corridor payphone unil Johnny's arrival. Three hours over spanakopita, Webster's dictionary, Greek salad, time, milk, plastic straw football, religion, and baklava (Johnny refused the baklava; I, in turn, devoured it like a long-lost lover.). The meal would have been an immense joy even if Johnny had not so gloriously triumphed 26-18; even if the baklava's warm honeyed insides had not found a ravenousness I did not even know within me; even if we had not found common understandings of dictionaries, religion, and time. (in preparation for pesach i find myself in the habit of composing dayenu's to myself.)


I dedicate this entry to the trees growing out of the banks of the great river. May we all feel the current of the river we flank, whether we choose to grow with it or against it.