And now we circle the sidewalks of this suitcase town / We have found some comfort here / We are experts / We are experts of the past / Coffee is cold like evening air / And still we sit like watchmen / Sweet morning lady / Sweet, sweet is so necessary / I just […]

He dreamed he played the notes so slowly that they hovered in the air above the crowd and shimmered like a neon sign (Oded Tzur, poem by Dana Gioia)