East Is East

even in the West Coast.

Somalis and Vietnamese 

straight off the boat.

Fob, freshie, flight 13,

California Muslims 

livin’ a sweet dream.

Beach time before salah,

sunsets nothing like you’ve seen,

laughter never missin a beat –

moods moving In N Out.

Here –

the sand is golden 

just like back home.

Still haven’t been back 

but the waves have you missing

what you’ll never know.

Standing around till they come too close,

and the sun sets into the water.

Voices drowned out,

smiles,

palm tree crowns,

succulents all around.

Happiness bouncing and bursting, 

nowhere else felt right,

so you quit looking for new towns.

It’s picture perfect here.

A counter filled with undeveloped film

of the one you love,

her skin pecan brown.

It lies next to sinking pipe dreams,

the kind too loud to forget,

but still.

You feel happiest 

here. 

Halima Hagi-Mohamed is a Somali-American writer living in California. Her work deals with themes of identity, culture, relationships and faith. She is the author of Amilah, a collection of short stories and Warda Means Rose.