Break-even
The English
woman on the
train stared
at me like I
was nothing.
She must’ve
thought I was
checking her
legs when I
looked at her.
Both of us
covered with
dark tinted
eyeglasses,
yet I can feel
her suspicions
from where
she sits; she’s
probably saying
”you’ll never
get a piece of
this shithead.”
Well, she’ll never
know this poem
about her either.
Photo credit: Myriam Nehmeh
Epiphany in Al Barsha
When I saw a long line grain of sand
on the street gently blown by the wind
and saw it
as lines of snow white cocaine,
I knew then that I’m missing my home.
People just don’t notice
how messed up someone can be;
we mind our own business.
Sentimentality always comes uninvited
and it catches you with your pants down
most of the time.
I figured that out just now.
— I walked my way to a bug infested partition
whistling to can’t find my way home.