Like half the town
I work at “The Comic Book,”
where white men adjust
printing presses and bindery machines
that spew white heroes
Superman,
Archie,
Casper, the Friendly Ghost,
while blacks wield brooms, load freight cars.
Six months pregnant
with our first child,
Marian walks to the plant,
our tiny black poodle,
Voodoo, on a leash.
As we stroll home for lunch,
she tells me the dog bit her hard.
We chat about baby names.
Later, I go to Rotary.
The minister sitting next to me says:
You’re the first Jew I’ve ever talked to.
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