Best Poem of A. Van Jordan

The Flash Reverses Time
When I'm running across the city
on the crowded streets
to home, when, in a blur,
the grass turns brown
beneath my feet, the asphalt
steams under every step
and the maple leaves sway
on the branches in my wake,
and the people look,
look in that bewildered way,
in my direction, I imagine
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Que Sera Sera
In my car, driving through Black Mountain,
North Carolina, I listen to what
sounds like Doris Day shooting
heroin inside Sly Stone's throat.

One would think that she fights
to get out, but she wants to stay
free in this skin. Fresh,
The Family Stone's album,

came out in '73, but I didn't . . .
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