When I called my father
he was watching Lethal Weapon,
my mother slept,
my little brother lit a second Chanukah candle,
while Mel Gibson cocked pistols, before
his future outbursts.
My father did not see the irony, although I tried to explain.
The whistles and yells from outside,
are either fascist or anti-fascist, I can’t tell.
The policeman says neither,
“they’re just anti-state” as he drinks his café normale.
The barretto usually empty,
save for the Moroccan selling scarves and lighters outside
is now full. Their orders for cafe machiato and cafe lungo,
stimulating the very state that they loathe,
they are unaware of the irony, as I laugh and roll a cigarette.
—Andreas Petrossiants, GLS sophomore