Where Romans built
And sat in stone.
Where Greek men cooked
With silk road spices.
Where you live now
Forgetting so much –
So much blood beneath
Your city streets.
You’ve washed your hair
In essence-of-jasmine.
Behind you, damp hair
Reaches to your bra.
Your little hips roll
To an African drumbeat
On mp3s French,
Arab, and now Rai.
In twenty-five-oh-nine
When all share your race,
Homo median will tour
The Milky Way.
Your man approaches.
He is a strong man:
Onions in his sweat
On his hairy chest.