I, Pakistani Man

In Pakistan we do not have such women with the bright white skin like America. I like to see them in the light of candles and smoky incense when the thong is up above the pants. These women are so pale that they look like great big toadstools with flowing yellow hair. I talk to them and I become so nervous my moustache becomes heavy with sweat and when I talk put one hand on my hip because that is the way of a Pakistani man. One time a woman of white skin placed her hand on my shoulder when I am having food at a Mexican restaurant. She asks me for a refill of margarita drink in punchbowl and I laugh so hard because I cannot because I am not a worker of restaurant. She becomes embarrassed at my handsome face and is unable to look to me anymore. Her friends laugh as I ask her to dinner again and again but they are shy like schoolgirls and run away. I grew angry and want to show her how a Pakistani man cannot be laughed upon but they are fast and lithe like thick, pale gazelles. Tomorrow I am to spend time at community college to meet the girls. I sometimes stand by classroom and smoke to appeal the women. They know I am a handsome Pakistani man. At party we go uninvited and stand with whites and talk to only ourselves so why do we go? Ha ha ha. In Pakistan we court women by hiding behind sofa and watching her with big eyes of the Pakistani man. I see large pale white woman I think of large dowry and the penis of this Pakistani man becomes hard like the ivory we use to make small ornametal chess pieces as children. I do not own a rickshaw but have taxi which is same.