Will this pass?
Will my feelings flicker and fade
Until they are
A dying star on the edge of the
Universe?
Only when time stops and the moon drops out of the sky
Or maybe if…
No. Never.
Love me forever
And I’ll love you to the end of the earth

He is ancient steadfast
I am sure he was here when the world was created
I am sure he will be here when it ends
His gentle face carved with hard lines
He poured forth knowledge in his native Persian tongue
He called me Shohre
I learned it was his sister's name
He looked at me like a granddaughter and treated me just as sweet

“Ghabl az enghalab...”
Before the revolution...
After which would follow painful reminiscing of
The days before the current regime
When wine bubbled out from Shiraz
Men and women danced late into the night
And soft voices wove love songs in street cafes

“Ghabl az enghalab moalem dar daneshgah boodam.”
Before the revolution I was a university professor.
“Yeki az daneshjooyanam Ahmedinejad bood.”
One of my students was Ahmedinejad.
And in English, clear as hate,
“He was a *******.”

One night I stayed back for extra lessons
We ate cherries from Costco and
Read excerpts from his autobiography
Pages crafted from right to left, vignettes of
His military service in Mashhad
And consequent teaching career

“Ba'ad az enghalab...”
After the revolution...
Was always followed with war stories
Political dissidents lost to Evin prison
Sharia law imposed on moderate minds
Escaping Iran by night with a phony visa

“Ba'ad az enghalab dar ketabkhane bayad kar konam”
After the revolution I had to work in the library.
“Khoastam yad bedahm, pas man o zanam be Amrika raftim.”
I wanted to teach, so my wife and I came to America.
He has not been home since 1981.

On December third of 2009 he walked smugly into the classroom
Setting a tape player happily on a desk.
He opened a folder from right to left
Produced a well-worn cassette
And played Happy Birthday, in Persian, for me.
He smiled at me with hands folded throughout the song
As I’d imagine he had smiled at
All the other special women in his life named Shohre.

He never played Happy Birthday for any of the other students.
Or gave them cherries,
Or went to their weddings,
Or held them while they cried when their grandfather died.
I do not know what he saw in me
But in each other we found family years and miles away from home.

Meet me in Valhalla
When the battle's done
The cries of enemies long slain
Have faded one by one
Hold my hand, brave brother
As our glory's crowned in blood
The sword strikes deep but still
Our souls will rise above the mud
O warrior, our destiny was
To fall in foreign lands
Within our veins flow rivers strange
Our mouths pour forth with sand
We do not fear the bitter dark
That waltzes round our eyes
Hold my hand, brave brother
Led by the Valkyrie we die
We march on toward golden shields
To fight under burning suns
Meet me in Valhalla
When the battle's won

what if i were a blonde bombshell

would it be different if i changed

would it be a little better

could i be a pulse on your radar

a blip on the screen

a little bit of static flipping through the channels

or maybe just me

could i have a place in line

a moment of your time

would it be different if i changed?

patient yet forlorn on saint valentine's day

take me by the hand
tour me 'round, sights unseen
take me to the twisted annals of your hometown
show me the back doors
and best tables of all your favorite places
take me by the hand and show me
show me
show me what it means
to walk the streets of your city
to look outside your window
and pray
destroy my misconceptions
and ***** your retrospections
build a city of you in me

i play life hoping to win
could i win
i've never played before
i've never prayed before
i've never payed my dues before
could i win
if i decided to
could i win
if i wanted to
if i tried to
if i had to
could i win
if i stepped outside
said here i am come and get me
i'll take you on
one by two by three
could i fulfill my prophecy
could i check the king
and one day go home
medaled to the teeth
followed by the victory march
marching for the victory
of me

if i could define my success
could i reach it
if i could see
the potential inside of me
could i reach it
could i play life before it plays me
**** the killer
cheat the cheater
meet my maker and make him cry
could i reach the top of the pole
before i die
if i tried my hand at something new
would i know what i was looking for
would i know what i needed
would i know who to call
would i know if i had succeded
would i know anything at all
would i know my limits
would i know where the boundaries end
would i know its highest honor
but if i did
could i reach it
could i touch it
would i be able to see it
with my own two eyes
would i be able to hear it
calling out my name
calling me to rise
could i reach my dreams
if they were impossible
falling apart at the seams
and far too heavy in whim
but someday catch them
and one day win

All I wanted was a cigarette.
We weren't allowed to smoke.
He knew where to go.

We swept sidewalks together.
Raked sand together.
Talked about life together.

His window was across from mine.
I think he saw me changing once.
Maybe more than once.

He was getting dishonorably discharged.
I didn't think he was a good man.
I didn't think he was a bad one, either.

It had been two weeks since I landed in Monterey.
I only wanted a cigarette.
He knew where to go.

I bought the Southern Comfort and bottom shelf gin.
He carried them with him to his room.
I didn't think anything of it.

We raked sand together.
We ate lunch together.
We watched movies together.

We sat on a makeshift bench by the ditch by the installation fence.
We drank and smoked and laughed.
I taught him Farsi and he taught me Russian.

Russian for "hello" and "goodbye."
Russian for "This is allowed."
Russian for "This is not allowed."

I think he saw me changing once.
He tried to kiss me on the cheek.
I told him no, my boyfriend wouldn't like that very much.

We smoked some more.
We drank some more.
We laughed some more.

It was 2130.
I had to be in my room by 2200.
He said not to worry, I'd be back in time.

I insisted and tried to leave.
I fell to the ground.
He didn't help me up.

I only wanted a cigarette.
He kissed me on the mouth.
I did not kiss him back.

I was immobile.
Paralyzed.
Drugged?

He kissed me again.
And again.
And again.

I did not kiss him back.
I had a boyfriend.
All I wanted was to smoke and drink and laugh.

He grabbed me by the ankles.
Pulled me over the ditch behind the army barracks by the installation fence.
I could hear soldiers coming back to their rooms.

I was paralyzed.
I always thought I would fight.
Fend him off with car keys stuffed between my fingers.

I looked up at the tree branches above me, my watch said 2147.
That was the last time I prayed to God.
There were leaves in my hair and dirt on my arms.

There was something less than a man between my legs.
It looked at me with hate in its eyes.
We swept sidewalks together.

God kicked back and swigged a PBR
     while I was ***** behind the army barracks,
     over the ditch by the installation fence.

He helped me up.
I couldn't stand on my own.
How sweet.

I vomited by a tree.
I was disgusted with myself and him and God.
I wanted to drown in Southern Comfort and bottom shelf gin.

He walked me to my barracks building.
How sweet.
I made it to my room by 2200.

All the girls watched me stumble down the hallway.
I was so violently alone.
Taps wailed outside the window.

I left my hat by the bench by the ditch by the installation fence.
He brought it to me the next morning.
How sweet.