NPM 12/30: In the Arava
Here’s something I dug out of an old journal and reworked…
In the Arava
Yesterday I met a man from Tulkarem.
He had special papers and could draw 200 liters
of clean water every week, because he worked
for the health authority and spoke
very good English.
He could not be convinced
that I was not Prime Minister.
He catalogued the policies which I would not
reform. Eventually, when the nargila clogged
and dew heavied our shirts,
he dutifully resigned as the ambassador
of sorrows, and we spoke of water.
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