Devi in Yellow

11/2001
A simple piece on the estranged relationship between Afghanistan and the US.


Devi in Yello

A boom pierces the ageless dark
a cry of minds, heard at last
run devi run, your life is fun
yo mothafucka will have his turn


Hear the twang of his guitar
it freezes the swing of your Styrofoam heart
be careful, your pendulum may turn
cut corners and throw your remains out in an urn.

And there you will be, ashes from his good times
a fluttering memory of a night,
twice burned, but still not shy
Revel Diva, your hijaab is undone

The dark obsesses and beckons you,
you search for the friend who yearns
to suck your soul through his minced teeth
at the end of a spicy feast

Your color is black and blue
you exist as still life in curfew
your flickering soul is trapped
between two stained flags

One by one it breaks your straps
night by night I lose track
how I broke the miracle strap
isn't it me who is paying for that crap?

During a cigarette I hear her scorn
she asks me, wanna increase the score?
I feel myself, tired and sore
like a repugnant bloody whore.

I inch away from the wet spot
and think of something a bit less raw
like the children of love I had seen
crossing the chasm of undetermined grief

An uneven desolate football field
a goal post that has adorned a look of disbelief
the turbaned goalie hobbling on his wooden stump
grinning away at a startling miss

His life is worth living for a while
the softness of skin temporary, the grin a facade
He will succumb without a trial
and become a tyrant, or fodder for jihad

But these children are a world away,
caught between varying truths of yellow haze
one is nourishment, other a prolific gallow
all dropped with an American Hello