I have opened up the windows of the hotel
there is a warm breeze on my back
I listen to music that plays on a radio
given to me by a World War 2 veteran
who came by for Christmas dinner
at the old house in Canada
I was surrounded by Christians
well versed on the subject
I hardly said a thing
A Jewish friend of mine once named me
an honorary Jew
I was very honored
So I sat in the candlelight and drank wine
and nodded politely at the talk of miracles

My resolutions for the coming year:

Do not kneel to any visualization of God
Do not be impressed by any display of power
Switch to a different brand of vodka
Switch to a different brand of cigarettes
Pray for the lonely and the dispossessed
People, in effect, like me

The warm breeze is at my back.
I am afraid that is the only miracle I need today.
In Buffalo, it is unheard of this time of year.
Michele sent me a new poem of hers
in which she uses the word “kohl”,
an ancient eyeliner used by the Eyptians.
These are the only miracles I need
the warm breeze at my back
and more poems sent from Michele

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