The first time you came,
In shriveled white pony tail,
I was young, and hungry
For your Siberian grass.
Mindlessly subdued by your bell.
The next time you came,
Armed with niggun,
Wrapped in plastic pink prayer shawl,
I sang, I danced, I cried out.
Thinking finally home.
The third time you came,
I was grown, you were arrogant.
No longer your sure thing, Joe.
You didn't see the disgust
Growing in my eyes.
You still come
And I turn away.
You tell me change.
I think
You fool. You dead fool.
After all these years together,
All your efforts, still
You have failed
To make me
You.