The Dream

In my dream
You were ashamed of your cigarettes
Your wild, black woman's hair, almost aboriginal
Green eyes that were not actually green,
Peeking out of white woman's flesh.
Unwittingly trapped between two worlds 

Unfazed by your unrulyness,
I invited you into my car, 
And let you drive yourself home,
But the police stopped us, 
Seeing the vehicle in disarray,
And threatened 
To take me off the road.

But I talked them out of it.

In the trunk, they found green green branches
Just blossomed.
The beginning of a tree.