small town
open my eyes to the joyful giggles of the kinder-garden school goers outside my 2nd story apartment bedroom
intertwined with the light chirp of birds waking up, i open the shades to invite in the streaks of sunlight that signify morning in the beginnings of summer
walk to the beach, turn the corner up the one hill meeting my anonymous walking companion who i share a “hello” head nod with each morning in the same 200 meter stretch we pass each other in
turning right back into the small town and away from the abyss of the Mediterranean sea i pass the embassy with excited foreigners making their case for residency in our little town
early rising bleeds to mid morning and i set out to the cafe where the baristas know my name and my order — offering me the regular with a small pastry on the side for a new week
sitting, observing our town square, people reclining in the lounge chairs by the fountain, babies wiggling around on picnic blankets, elderly reading the newspaper, middle aged walking their dogs, late 20s with backpacks, and teens in tiny outfits comparing entertainment on bustling phone screens
the music inside plays old 1960’s soul music — i complete tasks on my computer marveling at the unstoppable lively robust world around me, in our small town
get up to visit the grocery store where the teller knows my name and discount code by memory. remind myself i have a package from america, one of my weekly book pickups, the shop owner who doubles as a package collection joint and beer haul smiles asks what i have this time, and hands me a big cardboard box. i grin excited for whats come from overseas
head back in the direction of home passing a few neighborhood locals on the way, we smile, share hellos, and head home, knowing we’ll see each other tomorrow, or the next day on one of our small town roads.
tel aviv you are a magical wonderland of everything i could want a small town with a rowdy night life, a tourist haven, a jewish mecca, the sexiest, vibest, friendliest, little town i’ve known
