The Non-Violent March on Jerusalem

My old girlfriend lives just across town. All I did was go and visit. Why does that upset her? I mean, did I even touch her? Try to? No. She’ll tell you that herself. She won’t answer my calls—so what else can I do, but go for a visit. Who’s it hurting anyway? She claims that she’s over me, but I know better. I know that she’s still my girl. And I know my law. No touching, no sir. I know how to treat a lady. So all I did was drive up and park across from her house. Park and wait—yes sir, just sit there watching, day after day. I figured that that would make her see how much I still love her. But no. Up and calls the police. But what can they do—free country ain’t it? I’m just a sittin’ here in my car, yes sir officer sir, just a sittin’ here. OK—I took some pictures, but what’s wrong with that?

Well. Me and my friends weren’t going to let that one go by easy. So a bunch of us just started, you know, by coincidence, showing up wherever she happened to be—library, laundrymat, shopping. I know that deep down she still wants me, so what’s the harm. Just trying to get her to realize the inevibility of it all. She goes to a movie, there we are—me and a few of the boys. Goes out at night, well, there’s no telling what kind of lunatics might be out there, so we just follow her—for her own good. Never get too close, never laid a finger on her. Just keepin’ a lookout, you might say, from a distance. Yes sir, watchin’ every move—but just watchin’, that’s it. Nothin’ wrong with that.

She don’t like it—well, she can move to another town. Why she stay here anyway? I’m entitled to eat wherever I want, ain’t I? Not my fault that it winds up bein’ just where she sat down for lunch, is it? Me and ten o’ the boys just got powerful thirsty and surprise, well the closest place to get a drink was right there where she just ordered lunch. What she makin’ such a fuss over that?! We just drinkin’ at the counter—on the only stools available—five to her right and five to her left. What she gettin’ all upset over?! Can’t a man sit down for a drink anymore?

She just makin’ it hard on herself, that’s all she’s doin’. I just want to rekindle the old flame. She could just say, “yes,” and spare everybody all this runnin’ around. Me and the boys, we jus’ trying to show her the error of her ways. Just showin’, that’s all.

Now, you read about them who just don’t know how to treat a lady. They can’t keep their hands to themselves. Some of them even slippin’ things in their drinks and all, then pressin’ their advantage. What they call it now—date rape. But hey, I ain’t doing nothing. No datin’ and certainly none of the other. Just looking. What that old prof’ of mine call it? Yeah–non-violent demonstration. No hands allowed. Me and the boys, we just demonstratin’. Exercising our civil rights. Ha, ha, ha. How she gonna find fault with that? I’m a regular Martin Luther King!

About the Author
Naftali Moses, born in NYC, has lived in Israel for over 30 years. He holds a PhD in medical history from Bar-Ilan University, and teaches and writes on the nexus of medicine and Judaism. The author of "Really Dead?" and "Mourning Under Glass", he has also translated several books on Jewish thought into English, published on philosophy in the Mishna, and aggadah.