we're not even thinking of marriage... just
looking for the best biriyani in Queens--
we're still in New York but it feels like
we're in India and A is a bit too white
for this place and so I take his hand
right then, the old man sitting
outside the mosque
looks up and then
strides up to us
to tell us
love is always precious to Allah
as he lifts his hands in blessing
*
we're making on our way back
driving through Texas
and stopping
at a one-traffic-light town
thinking it would be an adventure
to sit at the diner where there are very
few women and every man wears a hat
bow-legged, an old man walks down the aisle
as if he's in a Western... I don't think he's looked
at me even once, but gazing earnestly into A's eyes
he says, I think your woman has a very nice skin color