We, thoughtless, had an Easter Parade,
the principal a tall, mercurial Irishman,
Judy Garland and fashion all playing
their part, paper plates, construction paper,
paste making up the rest.
There in the suburbs, many students
were Jewish, fathered by Yale professors
who favored public schools,
all named Bill that year, it seemed.
So it was Billy who brought his hand-scrolled Torah
for Show and Tell, confided to me
that he could not unroll it
or we’d all have to stand up.
He said he was a R- R- R- he couldn’t remember-
what kind of Jew, a joyous kind, I thought.
And he marched in the parade,
beribboned in his paper Passover hat,
happy with green paper spirals
hanging down like dreadlocks, a celebrant
in our procession of bunnies and eggs.
Strange to think he is probably a grandfather now,
and I’m hoping his joyous genes have
sent forth a tribe of light-hearted
enthusiasts, full of W- W- W- whatever
it is that they were and/or are all about.