Thursday Jun 04

Shafir-Poetry Oren Shafir is an American-Israeli who has survived many dark winters in Denmark. Oren’s stories and poems have appeared in many online and print magazines including The Absinthe Literary Review, The Blue Moon Review, Eclectica, NFG and The Pebble Beach Review. He is the recipient of the European Association for Jewish Culture grant for performing arts and has produced three original musical comedies on the Danish stage.
Advice for When You Grow Up
Shave every other day
Smoke an occasional joint
Listen to music constantly
Never go on a diet
Play the guitar
Or the piano
Play the mandolin
Play with yourself
Own lots of cookbooks
Make sure they get stained
With oil and mustard and chocolate
Never follow the recipes
Talk to strangers
Worship women
Read the classics
And the comics
Promise you’ll listen to me
Even if you ignore
Everything I say
This café
is open to homosexuals, heterosexuals, metrosexuals
(including, but not limited to, David Beckham)
Those in the closet, on the fence, or just curious
about what’s on the other side
Queens, cross-dressers, casual dressers,
the elegant and the fashion-challenged,
Muslims, Jews, and gypsies; Catholics,
Lutherans, and Baptists, Buddhists, Hindus,
and Zoroastrians, Atheists, agnostics, animists,
– and in short  –
Caffeine addicts of any ethnic, religious or non-religious,
sexual group, persuasion, or orientation.
Come in and talk to Moshe.
He’s not picky.
He even talks to me.

I remember the time
I told you something was wrong with Auntie's toilet --
It wouldn’t flush
And you said, It’s a bidet, you idiot
And I said, What’s a bidet?
But you helped me take care of it
I remember how we used to box
Only you weren’t allowed to hit me
And still I couldn’t hurt you
You were indestructible
I remember the time
You visited me in basic training
And I was so dazed and down
You just gathered my underwear and washed it
Without saying a word
And I remember the one time
I took care of you
You wanted me to introduce you
You were gonna sing, “Blue Suede Shoes”
In front of Mom and Dads’ guests
I snuck the booze back into the party
And somehow got you to bed
Before we reach the end
One of us will hit the ground
And the other will be there
To pick him up or bury him