I’ve just finished watching Charlie Kaufman’s I’m thinking of ending things for the third time, and the damn thing has me in its clutches.

Welcome to the "poem of the week," a new series designed to keep me writing and to hopefully keep you entertained in the process.

My paternal grandparents, immigrants from Russia, were strict Orthodox Jews, and would roil in their graves if they knew their grandson has been celebrating Christmas for half a century:

I had just made an ass of myself playing Lincoln in an Acting Before Camera class at NYU’s film school.

It was the late 60’s and revolution was in the air.

In our homes. On our streets. In our universities.

And even on Madison avenue, where a handful of enlightened ad agencies and their clients began to see the wisdom of talking to a jaded public with intelligence, humanity, wit and originality.

This morning after coffee and a well-toasted English Muffin with jam,I headed out for my daily wake-up walk around our East Bay neighborhood,Pandora providing the soundtrack with folk- rock from the 60s and 70s.

YENTALA’S EGGS

Was I that happy
was I that free
or was I just
dreaming
of what life would be
so many answers
were waiting for me
long ago…

Back in the late sixties, I was on a TV commercial shoot in London, where the Exec. producer was handing out Cuban cigars like they were M&Ms.