Chirp Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Chirp

Singled out and alone
-exactly as I want.
I read and get involved.
Here, lost in the crowd.

They come, go, I am a wall.
I listen as do mice.
And they chirp; they discuss,
I observe and smile.

Her hair long, soft blonde,
Her face fine, a canvas,
She’s painted but acne shows darkness,
Like the roots of her hair.

Next one’s face, round, small
Almond eyes, her eyebrows are half-arched.
Her hair’s long, rooks’ black.
On her chest says: “London”

“Not ugly, six foot two; ”
She explains.
“That’s great, who is he? ”
Asks the other.

Like the birds in Khojand.
The girls chat, chirp backbites.
I recall the chirping Twilights,
KGB had me in for those nights.

My eyes are on paper
Dojo films and Bai-Ling,
To the girls I’m not there
Calling the insurance, I pretend.

Coffee chats make me read.
These whispers inspire,
-help me learn, and I write.