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February 24, 2005

You matured
And got lost behind the tiny figure of a cigarette
The funky smoke lines that sheltered in the cracks of old walls
Were made by mouthful six syllable words you uttered

You matured
And the exclamations you sighed
Through those full and bloody red lips
Reeked of alcohol

When you repeatedly stated, "I know"
You were mature

Your delicate hands with long and shapely fingers
Look stark naked without the defining ring of validation
And your "Hello" was the alphabet of dominance

Your steps only knew the path between the kitchen and the bedroom
Yes, you were the little princess of dull knives and chopable vegetables
Cooking love that underneath expensive perfumes
Stunk of fried onions and roasted garlic

You matured
When you ranted without a pause for breath
You had read "love" in books
And how easily could say, "I love you!"

When you clawed on being
Through your artistic expression of body language
You were mature

You lived alone
Had a pet
Read contemporary literature
Took sedatives
Stayed up late
All because you were mature
And like the toys in the kids' section at Wal-Mart
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Book of the day

Stories From Iran
A Chicago Anthology 1921-1991
edited by Heshmat Moayyad

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