LOSING GRAVITY

My ancestor from Karlin
Wasn't mad so it must be
He was brave, not caring
When gravity, in one of her moods,
Released her claim on him
So, in the middle of prayer,
He started towards the ceiling.
Witnesses report he continued
Without losing a syllable.
Services over, the congregation
Watched him treading air
Until he washed against a pillar
And climbed down to join them.
The chazan handed him rocks
(Rocks? What were rocks doing
In a synagogue? Praying, I guess
Or perhaps dozing. Hard to tell.)
Which he put in his coat's pockets
So he could make it back home
Even if a vagrant wind thought
Wouldn't it be rare fun
To blow Reb Aaron to China?

ON THE SECOND FLOOR LANDING, NEXT TO THE CANDY MACHINE

I didn't get drunk often in those days
But I’d reached the point
Where each step required
Mature consideration. Gravity

Was not my friend that night.
I leaned against the  wall
Next to a candy machine as if
Deeply considering the merits
Of Kit-Kat bars and Snickers.
Someone's mother -- someone adorable --
Was suddenly talking to me.
I gave her all the grace I could spare
From my efforts not to fall down.
By all reports I have never again
Been anywhere near so charming.
"You really should marry that man,"
She told her daughter who,
With the wisdom born of youth,
Passionately ignored her.