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.