Imagine Seeing

For James Baldwin

I know you by your eyes.
We are in Paris, the Café
de Flore on the left bank.
My backpack leans heavy
on my knee, my neck aches
from the strain of carrying.
I am sharing one fried egg
with another weary American
girl. She eats the yolk. I cut up
the white into tiny bites I can
swallow. We have been traveling
forty days, our money nearly
gone. We haven’t washed or
changed. You are compacted
at a small round table in the corner,
a cloud of smoke rising whispers
above your head, a cigarette burning
between the slim fingers of your left
hand. You have an omelet and notebook
in front of you, both of which you
peck at occasionally, then you turn
your huge eyes back home
to Harlem, seeing a life
I do not live
no matter where I travel,
no matter where I sit.

---

Linda McCauley Freeman recently appeared in Delta Poetry Review, Poet Magazine, Amsterdam Quarterly, and won Grand Prize in StoriArts poetry contest. She has an MFA from Bennington, was poet-in-residence of the Putnam Arts Council, and has a forthcoming poetry collection (Backwindow Press, 2022). She lives in Hudson Valley, NY. www.Facebook.com/LindaMcCauleyFreeman