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|Essays · Poetry · Comedy · Art · Video
The men lurked about the roadside rest stop
but weren’t looking for drugs, young girls, or help
with a flat. Rather, it was the tenth man,
meit turned outthey were waiting for.
He mumbled something through his beard. Was I
Jewish, I thought he said. The last question
I expected in a dump like this. I
shook my head and thoughtI had heard of this
but joined anyway. I’ve never been one
to miss a game of poker, or decline
a dark pint. Who can say no to the tribe
of men, I mean. God’s another matter.
David Grayson is an Oakland-based essayist and poet whose work has appeared in the San Francisco Bay Guardian, Modern Haiku, Cortland Review, Caveat Lector, moocat.net and several other journals.Got feedback on this page? Share it with the moocat!
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