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Poetry

On the bus
>>> Prsian text

 


Nilofar Shidmehr
January 20, 2007
iranian.com

176 people are killed

and an Indian lady,

on her lap

today’s newspaper.

.

The girl across the aisle

listens to music

all through the way,

the young man besides me

studies,

something genetic-like,

the Chinese driver

drives,

and I am looking.

.

The bus moves along

and the blond girl’s head

across the aisle, my large eyes,

and the young man’s hand,

on the genomes,

the driver’s foot in black shoes

on the gas pedal,

and the fat Indian lady’s knees,

and the newspaper on her long green skirt,

and 176 people in Iraq.

.

The bus stops

behind the red lights

and the short spiky hair of the blond girl

and her I-pod,

my large brown eyes,

and the young man’s thin brown hand

on the spiral of human DNA,

and the Chinese driver’s foot in worn out black shoes

and the Indian lady’s thick legs

and the words on the paper

on her green woolen skirt

and 176 dead people in Iraq.

>>> Prsian text

 

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