I had this dream once.
I was sitting on the porch
Of the shack house I grew
Up in from the country.

It was a summer morning.
The dew still coats the
Grass and flowers. The
Morning dove coos away
In song, and the fog creeps
Its way back to the woods
Making room for the sun to
smite us all in a few hours
with the ugly rage of Texas
heat.

To the left of me was my
Grandfather, sitting a few
Feet away. Panama Porkpie
Straw hat, plaid shirt, dark
Slacks, and slippers. As he
Lit his first King Edwards
Cigar of the day my grandfather
Slowly turns to me, and he looked
At me square in the eyes and said,
“You know they ain’t gon’ let
No Negro in the White House!”

“Dad” (That’s what I called him.)
“Why you say that?”
“Why you even ask me that? You
Know why! That man ain’t got
No business even trying to be
President!”
“I think he got a shot.”
“He’s GONNA get shot!
I thought you had more sense than that.”
“I still think he has a shot.”
“What about Jessie Jackson?”
(I knew he was going to bust out with that.)
“You thought he had a shot, huh?”
“That was different.”
“Not too much different.”
“So you ain’t gonna vote for him?”
“I’ll vote for him. Anybody is
Better than Bush. He ain’t
No good. Worse than his
Daddy.”
Then, I woke up to NPR
On the radio. And I smile.
It was as though my
Grandfather never left
This world. But there
Was a difference. I
Wasn’t speaking to
Him like his grandson,
But as a man with my
Own views on the
World. And he saw
Me not as his grandson
But as a man.

And if the Lord blesses
Me with a long life, I
Hope to have this same
Dream. Only this time
He will see me as his
Friend.