Dating is a waste of time. But how else do I get what I need?
What are you views on Palestine/Israel? Do you know who Chick Corea is? What countries border Iran? Do you know any Shi'a Muslims? What do you think of the clarinet? Who's Molaana Jalaledin Mohammad Balkhi? Can you pronounce my name correctly? What do you think about women with hardcore ink? Have you ever been to a rally? Who's your favorite member of DITC? What do you know about invisible disabilities? What are your 3 favorite Bowie albums? Have you ever dated queer women? Or men? What do you think of "true love?" What's the last book you read? Major chords or minor? Curly or straight? Name 3 ingredients in a Tabouleh salad? Are you into vinyl (I mean all kinds)? What are your views on abortion? How often do you clean your bathroom? Dettol or baking soda? What was the last gift you made someone? What rhymes with spit?
grandma says i'm too picky. she's worried i'll never find anyone. time is running out, my eggs are rotting. the womb is wasting away. too much education does this to a girl. so does living in the west.
touch. never enough.
"I can't believe i'm sitting here with you right now," he says as he takes another swig from his third bottle of beer.
"A hot eye-ranian girl sitting here, talking to me."
"And why wouldn't I be talking to you, eye-talian guy?" I say, ready to get up from my seat.
"Because everyone knows you ladies only hang out with your own guys. I can't wait to tell my friends! You're like a trophy."
Can I talk to you, desert woman?
You are so sexy with your hooked arab nose.
How do the morenas feel about you and your lighter skin?
Don't think I haven't been noticing your ass.
Your hair is so black.
my racialized body sexualized. consumed.
what am i, you ask?
i am a red tulip holding this machete, asshole.
what are you?
Longing. Desire. Imperfect Love.
I want to love you in the moment. In between details. Syncopated. Raw.
If I ask you, will you come?
barefoot on the balcony
body curves into night air
across miles of skin
promise of you seeps
into my spine like molasses