Baruch November

​When All the Buildings Depart

Every building wishes to tear off from its foundation and soar upwards. They want to rise so high that they can be confused with a star in the night. It is utterly dreadful to contain people. People emit terrible odours and sounds. People do not wipe their feet. People love to say their names along with what they do, again and again, even if their only job is to relieve other people of their jobs. Do not be surprised when all the buildings of this world depart and you are left to labour in the fields—your hands calloused and the sun blistering your face. You cannot be forgiven for circling inside a revolving door even once.

**
 
The Secret Need

Many have a secret need they know nothing of. It inhabits their subconscious like the inventions of the most revered Dr. Freud. It can remain silent a whole lifetime. In heavy sleep, it can find expression in a dream that will be unremembered upon waking. Some know the secret need but have never articulated it fully to themselves or anyone else. They live what they know out in verdant jungles rarely trespassed and spend their days in the deepest meditation. It has been said the secret need is the desire to know what the animals know.   

There are those of us stumble upon the awareness of this need but deny it, keeping track of penny stocks or mutual funds all their days as a distraction. Though alive, these people have entombed themselves in ornate skyscrapers. Others, accepting of the secret need, run to the closest collection of trees, climb up as fast as possible, and shout animal names from the crowns. They hope at least one animal will explain everything. These people can shout as much as they want but the animals will not share their secret— or even a crushed acorn.
 
**
 
I Had No Idea

My hirsute friend taught me in college that cigarettes go well with drinking. At house parties, I did it a few times, wanting so badly to be like my hero Bogart or some other detective who lived in black and white and had a stunning secretary with wonderous hair that never came undone. I had no idea where to find a dark fedora. I had no idea how to inhale without choking. I had no idea how to call one of the Jewish women around me a dame without getting that great slap I would so rightfully deserve.

Across the room, my hirsute friend would smoke away like an industrial complex and between puffs, kiss a tall girl’s neck until the two of them found the perfect darkness in a room above, leaving me in my old cage of shyness. 
 
**

One Red Koi Fish is Enough to Change Your Life

One red koi fish is enough to change your life, darting into view then taking all it has changed back into the darkness below the surface, below understanding. It has found the infinite because it is beyond sight and everything is possible. In fact, the koi fish has become Schrodinger’s cat. It is both there and gone— dead and alive. 

It might surprise you to know that koi fish have become frustrated with us because we do not think of the infinite enough and our skin lacks the great lustre of the closest star.
 
**

One Jumbo, Hold Nothing 

Jumbo laboured behind the deli counter at Murray Avenue Kosher in the Squirrel Hill section of Pittsburgh. His old skin sagged with great wisdom and his lips were large with the humor of ancient days. He was a staple of the community as a staunch guardian of coleslaw and potato salad. Every morning, I liked to say hello to him this way: “Hello Jummmmbo!” He would respond “Hey Kid!” in that suave way that only men who have worked with chicken salad and chopped liver can manage. 

I asked him one day why he was called Jumbo. He looked at me for a while then took two slices of marble rye out and put them on a plate. Their spirals twirled like an exotic universe. Jumbo splashed Dijon mustard on them and piled them high with ruby red pastrami and corned beef. I thought the two thin slices of marble rye would never be able hold all the cold meat he piled up, but Jumbo mystically made it work. He squeezed it down, took a huge bite out of it, and said, “What are you, an idiot?”

**

Baruch November’s full-length book of poems is entitled Bar Mitzvah Dreams. His collection of poems, Dry Nectars of Plenty, co-won BigCityLit’s chapbook contest. His works have been featured in Tiferet Journal, Paterson Literary Review, Lumina, NewMyths.com, and The Forward. His poem “After Esav” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Baruch hosts and organizes The Jewish Poetry Reading Series for the JCC of Buffalo. He teaches literature and writing at Touro University. He has lived in too many places to count.