If They Ask

If they ask you, the hulks, belly touching the steering,headlights blazing on a canal road, where you are off to,say I missed the last bus, am walking home

and if they ask for your village, don’t say Casablanca,Djibouti, some city salted by the Mediterranean breezeand fringed with olives; just mention Kharkhoda, Khekra,anything that grates on the tongue like sandpaper

and if they ask your name, say it boldly, not too loud, thoughMunim Khan or Zainuddin or Zulfiqar, and if they askare you circumcised, don’t nod quietly, but say “yes”

and if they persist, when did you last kill a cow(and I hope to God you haven’t) say truthfully “never”and when they nod and say you can go, nod and leave.