This morning, for no good reason, I opened a large container of notebooks that I have not thrown away. I should. I should throw almost everything away. At the dentist’s office yesterday I read an article about a Japanese woman who wrote an international best seller and that is her thesis: throw everything away. Imagine, if you can, the opposite personality. Not only do i not throw it away, i bring home more. every single day i bring home something or other – an often interesting often useless object that i want to look at for god knows what reason. and then i put it some place where i will be able to look at it once in a while. words too. i have them everywhere and don’t often throw them away.

So I started these paragraph stories, many years ago. they were beginnings and they were endings. they were often about arabs and jews, and were meant to be the appendix of the book i was writing at the time called JARABS. If Jews and Arabs created a word together, maybe we could be ok. So here’s one of those stories. From one of my notebooks. From the closet. From Stories I Haven’t Told Anyone Yet

Nili was married
when she first
started seeing Fuad.
And he
was too, of course.
Palestinian men,
after a certain
age, they are always
married. They like
their wives but.
And Nili’s husband.
She did not talk
about him. They’d met
at a UN party. Both alone.
They met the way
people do
who are most
comfortable with

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

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