They say Americans aren’t welcome abroad –Na Baba!
We can wield that big stick, but we’re no longer free to trod –Na Baba!
I swallowed my Xanax and flew anyway. One last Chardonnay
over the Atlantic and all my fears are shod (ha!) Na Baba!
Midnight landing –a stranger grabs me, filling my arms with golan
I didn’t expect the scent of tubarose to fill all Mehrabad –Na Baba!
My new Maman Bozorg, like an imp grabs my arm,
“your eyes are jewels!” she says. I blush, but I don’t nod –Na Baba!
In the taxi I begged, “Yavosh!” The driver only laughed,
saying, as he accelerated his Paykan Lightening rod, “Na Baba!”
If you want something here never say yes,
instead answer three times (I know-it’s odd): Na Baba!
“After revolution comes revolution”, and on and on and on,
But did he really think it would all end in Jihad? Na Baba!
Just hold on -no one’s (brave voices, once whispered, now thicker) suggesting the Ayatollah’s a fraud –Na Baba!
That’s only Elham, jumping and clowning, aping the green sign that reminds, “Dignity is wearing Hijab”-Na Baba!
I never expected this: dancing parents bouncing children in air, joy
their only shield. The Mullah raises his arms, but only to applaud: Na Baba!
“And why not?” chides my host, peeling a cucumber
in miniature, “After all, this is no house Al’Saud!” –Na Baba!
On No Ruz, the bombs burst over the Avandrud like fireworks
Let me tell you, in Abadan they weren’t shocked, or awed, Na Baba!
Swear it my beloved and friend, to Mithra, Khoda, Jehovah, or Issa-
We haven’t forgotten all the names we once invented for God –Na Baba!
Agha! From Damavand’s roof you can see over all their smog.
But grab that mule, don’t let him ride you roughshod! Na Baba!
Jahn-am! Let us start walking, crushing their bitters with our feet.
Khasteh Nabashid! We can’t wait for the Rockies to come to Darabad –Na Baba!
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