north and south
Meet me at the Al-Ram checkpoint, between
Ramallah and
Jerusalem.
We will hold each other's hands over
the parking break.
I can hear the sound of your car approaching, the wheels
over the gravel,
over the Hebrew song on the megaphone,
you hand over mine, our eyes
looking out our respective automatic windows.
To the left, I see the headlights
of cars rounding a corner
to the beat of my father's heart monitor.
To the right,
you see the top of the tower
falling in your wake.
I will not let my heart drift
like a pink balloon across the border,
to skirt the tops of the masajid.
You will not stand
a keffiyeh whirling behind you
like a flame.
We will sit here at the checkpoint, both
driver and passenger and lover in the dark.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Ramallah and
Jerusalem.
We will hold each other's hands over
the parking break.
I can hear the sound of your car approaching, the wheels
over the gravel,
over the Hebrew song on the megaphone,
you hand over mine, our eyes
looking out our respective automatic windows.
To the left, I see the headlights
of cars rounding a corner
to the beat of my father's heart monitor.
To the right,
you see the top of the tower
falling in your wake.
I will not let my heart drift
like a pink balloon across the border,
to skirt the tops of the masajid.
You will not stand
a keffiyeh whirling behind you
like a flame.
We will sit here at the checkpoint, both
driver and passenger and lover in the dark.
Friday, July 07, 2006