I WAS THE KID

I was the kid who crawled under Passover tables,
	Grand St., Lower East Side.

I was the kid who skipped Workmens' Circle Shule classes,
	basement, Gale Place, Bronx, N.Y.

I was the kid whose Yiddish teacher had to drag him off the basketball court,
	playground, Van Cortlandt Park.

I was the kid who saw a bag of letters in strange languages in Grandma Bessie's
	house, Apartment 6D.

I was the kid who remembered these letters after his mother died,
	Croton-On-Hudson, N.Y.

I was the kid who worked with his father, ten years, to have the letters translated
	and assembled, Brookline, Mass.

I was the kid who will take a flight this November to
	Nuremberg, Germany.

I was the kid who found them. 

They are alive.

September 25, 2004