by Lauren Camp
Do not say salaam aleikum in my taxi.
Say Hello.
Say Drive me to 42nd and 2nd.
As we move slowly up the Avenue,
do not ask my faith, and do not ask me if I fast.
What I put in my body nourishes me;
what I leave out also feeds my soul.
Do not get out your knife.
My skin knows its angles already.
Say Here’s your money, sir
then please remove your soft body from my cab.
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"[A] baby-faced college student was charged Wednesday with using a folding knife to slash the neck and face of the taxi's Bangladeshi driver after the driver said he was Muslim."
Lauren Camp (Santa Fe, New Mexico) is an artist and educator. Her poems have recently been selected for J Journal and the anthology Before We Have Nowhere To Stand, Israel/Palestine: Poets Respond To The Struggle (Lost Horse Press, 2011). She is the author of a book of poems, This Business of Wisdom (West End Press, 2010).
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