No one ever figured out how Schlomo
Got off the ship with a life jacket
But there he was on the pier among the crowd
Sitting sadly on his little brown suitcase
And wearing a life jacket from the ship
With "Orinoco" stenciled across it
A sailor in a white uniform wanted it
But Schlomo would not take it off
A policeman in a blue uniform wanted it
But Schlomo would not take it off
Schlomo's father told him he wanted it
But Schlomo would not take it off
And on the bus ride through the city
Schlomo would not let go of it
And for weeks Schlomo wore his life jacket
In the park
In the dark
In his schule
In his school
Until one day in the park on the river's bank
He took it off
He threw it in
It promptly sank
Then he said to himself, our little Schlomo,
"I knew somehow - it was time to let go."
I disapprove of exposition, but I should explain: 1. I happen not to be Jewish. 2. I have not been thinking of the tragedies of the refugee ships of the 1930s. 3. Little Schlomo, with his paperboy's cap and dark coat and shorts and scuffed shoes and life jacket, appeared in a dream and I don't why, but here he is.
