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My Father’s Geography

I was parading the Co’te d’ Azure,

hopping the short trains from Nice to Cannes,

following the maze of streets in Monte Carlo

to the hills that overlook the vile.

A woman fed me pate in the afternoon,

calling from her stall to offer me more.

At breakfast I talked in French to an old man

about what he loved about America – the Kennedys.

On the beaches I walked and watched

topless women sunbathe and swim,

loving both home and being so far from it.

At a phone call looking to Africa over the Mediterranean,

I called my father, and missing me, he said,

“You almost home boy.  Go on cross that sea!”


Afaa M. Weaver

On the beaches I walked and watched…..



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