Out in the sky, a comet flails.Yes, it’s true—a man told me oncethat the Muslims were building more templesso they could blow more of us up.He didn’t know. I wrapped the steering wheelaround my fingers, let my breathsteam the windshield. Tiny pearlslike the kind I never worefloating around us. I didn’t want to scaremyself.The night looked like a car with its lightsturned off—silent, steady,a predator crouched behind a moundof stars. We ducked under bushesas the light seeped through: gears churning,the hum of the engine trying to lureus out. Slowly we waited,let the hunt flicker over uslike a lamp being lit.If you don’t wear the muzzie hat, are you a bad muzzie?I signed up for a kickboxing classand the woman asked if I was gettingan arranged marriage. Yes—that’s whyI’m here, to hold my scrawnylimbs steady as my futurehusband reddens the floor.His throat lusteredwith imaginary violence.All the women in my familydream of images they can’t touch,scraped under a man’sheel. Like a blood-soaked blisterbefore it flattens. No, I’m joking. I am,actually.Really, it’s OK.We leaned against the caras the eclipse washed over us,grass graying under the moon.The whole scene was out of a book:daylight slipping into a crevice,the field dimmed, our bodies hiddeninside a scene scatteredwith everyone.Why do you guys want to bomb us?At the bus stop, I watched his body unravelwhen I cursed, the tension in his face pouring outlike someone had unstoppered it. I mean,I was trying to show him, and it worked.Like a conductor prying outa symphony. After that,he made a beeline for me. Sat beside meevery day.Her face dropped—smooth maskcleaved through, mouth whitenedin alarm. It was fleeting,like a lake rippling before the calmrolls over it, presses it into perfectsubmission. The answer followedsoon: They wereunavailable. Very sorry,though. If I hadn’t lookedright at her, I might have been leftwondering.I wonder how you would look in a bikini.Lying back, we touched hands,let the dark stretch out above.Out silhouette suspended in a prismof night—and the light,rushing below.It was the kind that huddled againstyour eyelids, pressing out flaresof purple and blue, and out therewe let it simmer: face pointing up,the stars blinking down,and our body, orphaned at last—and waiting.