And a car turns down a street
for the final time,
its service puttering to an end.
A man sits on his bed,
puts on his shoes for—what will be—
the final time. He will leave
his home while it is still dark. The accountant
fills out the last form of the season and reaches
for his jacket, shutting the office lights.
The rabbi takes off his glasses
and squints once more—
but only once more—
at the script lines of commentary
running alongside the page of Talmud
his father taught him to read
many years ago, in another country.