Hola and a carton of leche — I grew up speaking one language and only had a single identity. I had no special connection to another culture; never had a foreign perspective or fluent in another tongue. I never spoke Hebrew or traversed the desert during biblical times. …

Sweet and idyllic — On a summer holiday, I watch the ocean from a cliff. I gaze down an endless coastline, and follow the sea with each cosmic respiration. People scatter on the sandy floor in play and rest — in movement and repose — frisbees flying, a Labrador retrieves a red ball, and worries washed out…

Ventura, California Pictures — I don’t surf, but I’ll get on a paddle board once in a while and make loops around the marina. I envy those cool cat surfers with waxed boards who are water acrobats. …

The Mein Kampf of the Kama Sutra — Imagine being one of Hitler’s lovers, in bed with a ragin’ despot, screwed both males and females, commandants and German shepherds — led them down the road to sexual perversion, masochistic morality, naked indignity — the Mein Kampf of the Kama Sutra Adolf Small Willy could barely break a rat’s cherry…

I’m tired of following the crowd — There comes a day when you don’t give a shit about fitting in. You go with your flow and don’t complain — don’t try, don’t strain. Screw buying a new car. After you drive them, you get bored and want a new one. …

And thanks for being the not-so-perfect older brother — When I heard you died, Wally, it was like my big brother had passed. I was an only child, but from 1957 to 1963, you were my surrogate older brother. I imagined you being the brother who could rescue me from bullies and help me solve everyday problems. You had…

A poem for The Lark poetry competition — Old trees have wisdom, bent over like aging prophets preaching. The crows say I have arrived for a new beginning, and point me in the right direction. The fragrance of lavender wafts through the air, reviving my waning spirit. I go to Oak Park each afternoon to transform my rigid soul…