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by Esther Cohen
I HAVEN’T been to the penthouse in years. Not since I left
my job. And although I’d ordered
drinks a week ago to avoid any problems
they weren’t there and the man named Irving
on the phone at Google Express couldn’t explain why.
But the posters I worked on for years
were all on the wall and the other Irving who ran the space
neither were Jewish Irvings Indian and Caribbean he
helped us with missing supplies and the pinwheels
were delivered before the elevator closed they gave us two extra trays
Larry brought wonderful marble cake Marvin a retired principal
sat at the desk to say hello and once all of Henry’s friends
filled the room came into the space didn’t complain much
about the pinwheels they loved the marble cake once they came in
and Rachel welcomed them they started talking about Henry
and even afterwards people had Henry stories like the one
Gary told about one day coming back from lunch with a bunch
of fur workers and seeing Zero Mostel who yelled at Henry
Fuck You Henry Foner. You know Zero Mostel? Is what his friends said.
Esther Cohen is arts and events consultant for Jewish Currents and writes a daily poem at Esther Cohen, Facebook Poet.