sitting in my car outside
of her house.
suzie's house.
well, not hers, but her parent's
house.
i'd lay on the horn
as i combed my
hair again
in the rear view mirror.
i could see her mother
in the window
cursing me in Lebanese.
her father
shaking his
head, holding a club
in his hand.
but suzie loved me,
and out she'd come,
smelling of baklava and
stuffed cabbage.
a pair of kibbeh rolls
on a plate.
off we went
with an eleven pm
curfew. pffffft.
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