Saturday was rain
And gloomy even before
I stepped outside
And heard about the killing
The blood that runs down into
The sewage pipes of Tel Aviv
Was washed away by torrents
Minutes of rain followed by
Minutes of sunlight
Dog walkers and children
Magnetized by whatever pulled
Them toward the park
How lovely, I thought
The water here makes blood look like
Paint on a sidewalk
So that when we walk by
Any curb looks fit for
A facelift
Where does all that blood run to?
I wondered
And whose veins does it pump through?
Because in my dinner I can taste it
In the lettuce and the peppers that we chopped
After we rinsed them with water
It was as if we had left them outside by the curb in the rain
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