We can buy Almaza and get to your uncle’s place while he’s having his Argileh with his friends outdoors.
We can buy some of the Armenian nuts you like.
We can sit next to each other on the Sofa.
We can get nervous.
We can allow silence to be so loud.
This is it.
We can turn Valentine into a sacred sin.
Would you break the law with me?
We can wait till we finish our first bottle.
We can forget about your tomorrow and mine.
You can let me start right here and now.
My lips touching yours.
My body longing for yours.
and I cannot believe it.
You’re so beautiful.
You can let me put my arms and legs around you.
Let me kiss you, this hard.
Don’t let go, not yet.
If you’re leaving tomorrow, you’re not leaving me now.
Let me look at you looking at me.
Just keep looking at me.
We can break gays’ weird terminologies. We can be whoever we want.
Let’s speak our language, women’s language. Resistance.
You could be the woman of my secret dreams.
The Ayrab woman, who knows it all.
Experienced it all:
A different woman in the world.
a queer in the world.
an Ayrab home.
an Ayrab abroad.
My body is striving for your wounds.
Those familiar not so universal wounds.
Let’s make love in this global battlefield.
For Palestine, for Iraq and Afghanistan, for Lebanon and for Golan.
For the blacks, the Latinos and the natives, let’s make love.
Let’s put our guns and rifles aside at this very second
They’re not taking our colored womanhood from us.
Stay inside, and cry with me.
Touch me there, touch me right here.
Your voice, I never told you how much I love your voice.
The voice that speaks. That yells and weeps.
I know you’re not my Valentine.
But could you at least,
and while you’re slowly kissing my mind,
be my Palestine?