RG and MC were the godhead, The older brothers I dreamed I had. I didn’t notice they were colored, Because older boys capable of being kind To a younger boy are God. It is absolutely odd To be able to be with God. I can almost see their faces, but can’t quite. I remember how blazingly graceful they were, And that they offered to get me a girl so I could meet God. I have an early memory of a black chauffeur, Out of his livery, Hosing down a long black Packard sedan, sobbing. Did it happen? It took place In Portland Place. I remember the pink-soled gum boots That went with the fellow’s very pink gums And very white teeth, while he washed The Packard’s whitewalls white And let them dry, sobbing, Painting on liquid white with an applicator afterward. Later that afternoon he resumed his chauffeur costume, A darky clad in black under the staring sun. Franklin Delano Roosevelt had died. On the other hand, Ronny Banks was light-skinned. He worked as a carhop at Medart’s drive-in. He was well-spoken, gently friendly.
