Thirty seven thousand feet above the heartland of America
and I am thinking of you Oconomowoc.
Who knew a city with so many of the same vowel
In its name could have such an impact?
I’ll never look at the hokey pokey the same way
I have put my whole self in and I’m not ready to pull out.
Reports from the Milwaukee airport show many of
My friends have entered the recombobulation area.
There was no such service at O’Hare and were
finding ourselves still a bit un-combobulated.
Or perhaps that’s just our broken a little exposed.
Our eyes still a little wet. Our eileh chambda
still a little leebeed. We had five days to learn
just how perfect we are and it’s going to be a
struggle to remember that without two hundred
other voices backing us up. Gonna try.
This plane is going to land soon, in Phoenix
which is not where I live, but it’s a start.
Isn’t that the case at the end back in our
fifty one week home…it’s the one week one
which still burns, like a couple hundred intentions
gone up in flames to spark the separation.
Here’s to a world where all our sacred weeks
combine like a twisted candle
and our next embrace with each other
is as certain as the coming of the next Shabbat.
Until then, I hope your luggage arrives home with you
remember, you are always traveling on the shoulders of angels
and watch out for bandits in the road.
Until next year Oconomowoc.
P.S. My wife just pointed an OSRUI banana at me
on the plane. I’ll let you know how this turns out.