12 of 30

We have always lived in the castle

I used to live in that house, says my father,

driving down Frontage. On the cusp

of the ghetto then; squarely in it now.

The wonderful thing about progress is

never having to feel like you've returned

anywhere. On a road that leads now

to a Trader Joe's, for God's sake, there's

a shopping center we used to call

The Jew Plaza: a Loehmann's, a Chinese

restaurant, and a bagel shop. Loehmann's

is gone, now a Rainbow or Joyce Leslie

or such, vending flammable clothes

for prostitutes. Bagels are gone, too, but

it's become a bank, so I feel we usurious

Jews still have our hand in. Golden Palace

remains, its grease and red velvet, the sweet

and sour thick as library paste and tasting 

of cherry Lifesavers. My grandmother

would haunt the landlord if it ever closed.

It was a nice house, Dad continues,

close to campus. Then I met your mother--

and we know the rest of the story. I remember

hearing the bells of that church. Still standing.

Still a church.