1991-1992 Rothberg Yearbook

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It was not very long ago
inside about a year or so
that I rode by on camel back,
deciding places we should go.
Two humps had she- one white, one black,
and in between there stood a sack.
With water, pita, cake, and pie,
we started o ff upon the track.
The camel raised her nose up high
for reasons which I knew not why.
Her nostrils flared, her eyes got wide.
The camel sniffed and gave a sigh.
The pace picked up- a bumpy ride.
The reins were tough; at least I tried
to keep us moving through the way,
avoiding joggers on the side.
The evening skies were turning grey
as desert winds began to play,
and heading north, we left the heat
to bid farewell, the passing day.
The steady, jolly, happy beat
was coming from my cam el’s feet,
as anxious was she to arrive
to find out how to get hurt her treat.
Instead o f merely one day’s drive,
our journey lasted four or five.
Yet, once I visioned lights o f gold,
My deepest senses came alive.
A nd there it was, the story told.
The scent was som ething to behold.
Behind the square and cobbled stone
was where the best falafel sold.
So there we were, long way from home,
without a paper or a phone.
We knew our trip was now complete.
No further did we need to roam.
Then we sat down, and went to eat,
while people called for a m onit;.
but I just laughed and took my seat
by camel-back on Jaffa Street.
Jon Schulman
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