I am glad that

Father did not follow

my friend Ilse’s advice.

He stopped.

I am glad he stopped halfway,

one foot on the windowsill,

when the American official said,

“Mr. Salzberg!”

and gave us visas.

So now it is Sunday,

the day before

we are to leave.

Ilse lives one floor beneath us,

and we have known each other

a long time.

She is not my best friend,

but she is my good friend,

and we see each other

every day.

We will miss each other.

Soon, her family will leave, too,

once they get their visas.

Maybe in America

her family will live downstairs from us

in a new apartment building,

and I’ll still see her

every day.