“What are the Words to White Man?”

I remember a little boy, perhaps Jewish,
perhaps born in Ankara,
oohing and ahhing over his mother’s makeup and asking
if he can put some on
too. When she says he can he does.
And as he does he whispers: “becoming beautiful.”

30 years later, I saw him, now a Marxist guitarist,

signing autographs in Times Square on Broadway.
I called out: What are the words to White Man in Hammersmith Palais?

He came over to tell me everything
he was able to

remember.

Long after that, waiting on the sidewalk, I asked myself
is that really her coming over in the Marxist dress?
She kissed me.

The TV news said
they played White Man
at his funeral.
Perhaps I’m becoming beautiful.

—October, 2019

Published in Halcyone Literary Review, June, 2020 qnd in my first collection, Shops Close Too Early (Cathexis Northwest Pres, 2002).