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Dokhtar-e Amrika-i

By Farnoosh Seifoddini
December 17, 2002
The Iranian

At the dinner table
We talk politics
I say we shouldn't go to war
We are hated around the world.
My mother snickers:
Akh! akh! Fekr mikoneh Amrika-ist!

In middle school
with brown skin and toothpick curves
their eyes watch me
Camel Jockey!
Vanessa, with her soft milky skin
and gold tinted hair
reassures me:
you'll bloom in college
Everyone will be after you.

At some bar
he walks towards me
two drinks in hand
his brow arches
over pale blue eyes
he asks my name
then asks where I'm from
I say: the Axis of Evil.

In my dreams
things aren't punctuated properly
I wear Amrika on my head
a turban of red, white and blue
stars and stripes stream behind me
as I ride through the amber waves of grain
glide over the fruited plains:
on my camel.

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