by Sherman Alexie
At King Louie’s, my sister’s friend choked on a thick chunk of sweet–and–sour pork. Over three hundred pounds, she stood, clutched at her throat, and tried to ask for help. But she was so dark and huge and in such distress that she became a storm front, and her fellow diners evacuated the region, or tried to lash themselves to their chairs.
by Jean Nordhaus
I dream two old Jews washing dishes
in last night’s Japanese restaurant,
keening and kvetching in Yiddish.
One sings a song the Nazis made him sing . . . ,
a Polish song of girls and love and soldiers.
The other hums along and weeps.
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