Made For City Girls (Poem 25 of 99)

Daddy used to sit on that sofa with a cookie and a cup of tea

The news would be on and I’d hear him say after every report:

“That’s what you’ll get if you move to the city my son, that’s what you’ll get”.

He was of course talking about yeast like crime waves

But I, being the only Pakistani boy in my class, and the only single boy too,

Hoped the same would apply for mixed race relationships:

“That’s what you’ll get if you move to the city my son, that’s what you’ll get”.

This small town was a tunnel at the end of which I hoped to see

Big city lights.

It’s dark in tunnels. So dark the girls couldn’t see me.

But they could smell me.

I tried to convince them I was wearing the latest offering from Lynx…

“Then why have you sprayed it on your buttcheeks”, they’d say.

They knew the smell of fried onions and garam masala too well; nice

From a plate,  but not nice from a boy’s  pores.

“So things are different in big cities Dad”?

“Yes, son”.

“Tell me, do the girls have nostrils there”?

Dasein Petals © Copyright 2013

      (Poem 25 of 99 to raise money for operations for deformed, poverty stricken children). Sponsor me.

@DaseinPetals #99poems

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