I dreamed of you last night
standing near the Drugstore on the St.-Germain-des-Prés
You popped out of the pastry shop
wiping some exotic créme from your lips
showing off your new cigarette holder
“Got one yet?”
and your smile lit up the city of lights
Southern men cannot be generalized about
I know you all as liars and lynchers
I have accepted the myth that though you may wear a suit
beneath it the blood runs hot
and your hair so similar to those whom Darwin said were
all our ancestors mats against your heaving chest
It’s unpatriotic not to smoke tobacco
we both agreed at least in North Carolina
and poor Ed who will some day be a great man
just sat there confused
without laughter what is the purpose
my ancestors once worked for yours
involuntarily
and I laugh because it is only what happened
not nearly the truth
I’ve seen Paris and you’ve seen me
and last night in my dream
we both smiled