An old friend Eve
daughter of Romanian
Holocaust survivors
family ended up in an Omaha
displaced persons camp.
Then they moved to
Suburban Omaha,
joined an Orthodox synagogue
raised her to be
Beautiful Orthodox Woman.
We met at work in New York.
She made cholent for crowds
every Saturday in her apartment
and looked for a husband.
One day she met a handsome
non Orthodox
man in the elevator.
Born in Brooklyn
liked baseball earned
his living as a maître d
in a dark hamburger bar,
she loved him
and he loved her
he wasn’t religious
she was never
going to be less religious
she left to marry a man
her rabbi knew
in Jerusalem. Last week
we met for dinner.
She wanted to talk about
The man in the elevator.
She said
I love him Still.

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.


  1. Yesterday you were considering what a picture of still would look like, you think in words, you said. But of course what you do, what all good creative writers do, is make word pictures. To show what cannot be explained. Painting, sketching, collaging, sculpting, snapshot-ing with words. Making everyday moments, everyday people visible in a new way.

  2. I once was alone with John Belushi in an elevator. He didn’t talk, but gestured weirdly as if he was on something. Paul Rothman once was alone with Woody Allen in an elevator. Paul smiled at him, and Woody responded as if wordlessly saying yes I know you know who I am. In both cases, no words were exchanged, but the memory remains. Still.

  3. I don’t know if I am haunted or comforted by this… Geez. Romantic Love is the same all over across to everywhere. Very nice little vignette, though.

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