Persistent Date

All night he talked

About his glorious ancestors

And his inglorious mom

Those who were members

Of the parliaments of thieves

And this one who cooks like a royal chef

Told me of his masters

Of engineering in manipulation

And his PhD in accumulation

Of wealth in Tehran, Dubai and Westchester

His project of getting NASA retired to the moon

But did not ask about me, a single question

Except one: “Shall we call it a date?”

It sounds like a funeral fruit to my ears

Served over my dead body.

“Shall I have a kiss?” his eyes glitter.

I put a purple one in his palm.

“It’s dark. It’s healthier,” I giggle.

He stayed where I left him at the gate

A statue of a waving man sending me e-mails

After e-mails about his achievements.

Oh, I have never had such a persistent date.