Are you really reading?

Are you really reading?

     asks the man sitting next to me--
he is a little taller, much older
                                         bald and in a suit
and he knows my nationality
because I told him so
                                         which is when he asked.
And I smile at him, not realizing
that I was too meager to understand the book.
        Babel:
                    The necessity for violence
and I watch him glare at me
 before walking up to the desk at the embassay.

He has a son in America
and he is going there to work
              and his visa gets rejected
and I smile at him as he walks away.
 
Are you afraid of harm in your country?
  Asks the blonde lady from a foreign land in a mask
and I can't help but smile

"No," as I fiddle with the pages
of when God confounded us,
                       when He scattered us.
No, for we are too meager to apprehend
                                              and comprehend
because we are foreign
                           in foreign lands.