A Palestinian bike ride

On the bike from my house to my head

I hear, thuds of English words dropping at my back

and wonder what is so foreign about the right to normalcy

One day I asked my mother why women cannot cycle the streets

in a city that brags about nightlife in a non-comical way

that lights the street green when fasting and sips beer

by the dawn breaking all tradition of wonder

so my mother turns and says to me,

there is enough woman to tell you what to do

enough to tell you what you cannot do

and only one to carry out either way

so I rode onward beneath blazing sun

screaming kids and the braying of donkeys

till the cows came home