HaifaHolyLandBreakBreadHouse

Hava Haifa’s mellifluous taste of BC dusty spice trails intersecting,

angular twisted backstreets

echoing a pretzel snapshot of culture and tongue,

reverberating in a HebrewArabicFarsiSpanishEnglish

tossed salad of ongoing multidimensional commentaries

sprinkled with sun leavened ruddy Sea breezes

and schmeared with Israeli mashugana sauna baths,

plentiful shekels melting then dissolving from self esteem

a singular city of generational centuries,

constructed from waves of continuous self creation:

Shalom! and welcome to HaifaHolyLandBreakBreadHouse,

where everybody’s a member

where nobody’s foreign

where there’s no cover charge

where a cacophony of voices converge

then stumble into some abstract harmony,

intersecting waves of old bearded city dwellers

who become stagnant

then mistrustful

then aggressive

then paranoid, leaking apologetic guilt,

then eventually search for remorse

until further unraveling into some HolyLand catharsis

and bystanders gather here

bees to blossoms,

perhaps beckoned by a ragamuffin flute or clarinet,

beckoned by four folk dancing sisters adorned in long red Russian sarafans),

or beckoned by a song about

Yosef and Miriam swimming naked in the Mediterranean

between the wet hugs

fervent blended kisses buoyant,

then from these enchanted ablutions

wisdom and illumination eventually emerge,

caressing all who continue to dream forward,

to wonder and fathom,

as once again

these intimate biblical trails

crisscross,

all inevitably to converge into Haifa

6/27/18