A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
You hadn’t heard of the Beatles until they had broken up.
It was 1971.
You were still two years from leaving Tehran for Los Angeles.
Hassan’s uncle had gone to the Caspian Sea to fish for zander and carp,
And he had asked Hassan to housesit.
While Hassan spoke on the telephone to a girlfriend who was always
Breaking his heart,
You thumbed through a stack of records by bands whose names you’d never heard of.
After Hassan had left to go and deliver a bouquet of flowers,
John Lennon’s voice entered the living room and everything changed.
The moon was a white guitar strumming itself to sleep
Just beyond the second-floor windows,
And the rug on which you sat became a strawberry field
Whose fruits never went out of season.
Copyright 2018 Kareem Tayyar