| Poetry |
Hommes blancos
Years ago, I could not wait to leave women.
Slide out of a warm bed
and crawl, to a door, to freedom.
Run into a cold night.
I could not do it quick enough.
Even if I did not know where I was and had no money
I just had to get out.
Now I do anything to be close to them.
I grab and treasure smiles from young girls
as often as I can.
Holding them in my mind, until the memory fades,
And then I am looking for another.
Tonight,
I think that I will wear my white suit
and go and look for more,
more of those beautiful smiles.
by Marc Carver
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