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A Muslim from Oslo

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For you,

I am a Kebab Norsk Muslim.

The one you make fun of with your drunk head on Sunday mornings.

But all I care is my mortgage. 

For you,

I am a Muslim in Tøyen.

The one you are scared to see at the edge of the narrow street.

At night.

While my mind is in Schweigaards gate 17.

It's the address that I learnt before where I will sleep.

It's an address you will never learn.

The address causes me cut my beard.

For you,

I am a young Muslim.

The one you never miss to mention the rape discussions in our first date.

Even though my face turns red when I hold your hand in public.

Sercan Leylek