After the ball was over and the taxi-cab was underway some one suggested midnight chow, permitted by the censor.

Girt with omnipotence, with radiance crowned.

Failing to penetrate General Motors’ secure corporate sanctum, I’m forced to imagine the signs of culture shock: apfelstrudel has replaced Krispy Kremes at morning meetings.

My father…and a shikse? Can’t be. Was beyond his ken. My own father – fucked shikses? I’ll admit under duress that he fucked my mother…but shikses? I can no more imagine him knocking over a gas station.