I slapped Jeffrey Rosenbaum in the face
and his cheek, his cheek! blossomed red
as a Cherry Ripe TV ad. Disgrace!
Never again knew such shame in my head.
I sat there on the three-decker steps, sick.
Rose, in apartment one, came out and sighed,
"I'd really like to know what makes you tick."
Word had spread. Me too, oh me too, I lied.
It was spring cleaning for the Jewish street,
and I discovered some amazing treasures:
bikes, Constitution scrolls, books, tape measures,
and Victrolas with classical discs-- sweet!
Jeffrey had called me an anti-Semite!
But my Jesus was a Jew, am I right?
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