boy meets girl, algiers, 1956

a french soldier came along someday
and “fucked” this woman in one of the streets
but woman knows that she’ll get pregnant
and thus here we all are
berbers ignored as the underwood is
where we get fucked by little pieces of western eyes
and wear the evidence under our shirts
all the way home, yeah,
all the way home.

then baby gets born and our sons never come home
because their hearts get mangled in the wire fighting him who’s fucked me
and i hold on tight to my face because it’s the last piece of me i have
so hold on tight, little identity picture, hold on
and we don’t get a say in how the world defines us
because someday your people will tell you we’re your terrorists
and we’ll be the people that want to cut your babies
and play football with their heads

not that none of you ever did that
not that that french soldier ever did that
when he glided his paper skin against me
and after every spill i look at myself in the mirror
i see him baring his teeth in my stomach
and i want to cut it all out of me,
yeah, i want to cut it out of me,
but instead he does it for me.