Berkeley

On a Berkeley slope

On a clear day

I watch fruit slip off the branches

The wind carrying the sand in a way

That kisses the bark

And how the fruit glides softly until it reaches

My toe

Stopping me, each time

From coming clean

It could have been 2010

Or 1997

It could have been my lover

Or my parents

And their lovers

It could have been Berkeley

Or Haifa

Or a sixteen hour flight

Or the shed in my backyard

Long replaced by something much stronger

Than love