The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you—-
Then, will it be true?
I wonder if it’s that simple
But probably not, because im not Langston Hughes
I am no where near 22, still with a mind
all fresh and kind.
Born and raised in Pakistan, spent 15 years of my life,
In a world where Chai is Hot, and Carts are slow
But people still find time for breakfast, and not to-go.
Came here on my birthday, literally on the 6th of July,
Quite a long plane ride.
Asked mommy and Daddy for a present but they replied,
We brought you over to the land of dreams,
What more can you can want? shut up, don’t scream.
But the dreams were just dreams,
Nothing less, nothing more, just wisps in the air
Not enough to to wipe the floor
with. So now i am here, in New Orleans
Where the days are Hot and Saints Supreme.
Trying to make it through Pharm School
But distractions keep popping like books, in ancient Timbuktu.
So who is this Langston Hughes? writing about english B themes and what not,
I got a research paper to finish, soon to be due.
So lemme get back to it won’t you?