13

Today I am a fountain pen
So goes the tired Jewish joke
That turns the day of joining men
In taking up the common yoke
Into the symbol of the day
The gift so often given out.
And yet the joke, though bland, yet may
Express a certain inner doubt
Am I a man? I'm but thirteen
And barely that to tell the truth;
What can this day, then, really mean
If I remain the same old youth?
I do not feel so different. Still
They all say so. Maybe I will?