poem
Volume 33, Number 2

Unknown Holiday

In the Indian Quarter
on Saturday night
the band performs in the rain
the smell of goat curry
piques hunger
neon reflects from
wet roads cut
by trolley tracks.

I am torn by a desire to join
and a desire to respect
their differences without
appropriating them.

In the end, a dancer 
pulls me in, and 
socialization conquers fear.


—Herb Kauderer