On Meeting Marlon Brando at the Chapel Hill Library

The New Jersey accent is cool,
not to mention the plaid shirt,
grey hair, glasses, and jeans.
His manner is a little in-between
friendly and studious.

But helpful, yes, he answered my question.
"How far is it from Amherst to Brookline?
Do you think I'll have time
to see the home of Emily Dickinson?"

"Well, it's way over here,"
he replied, gesturing with both arms.
Half way across the state, apparently.

"Oh, you've been there?"
Yes, he had.  Even though he is from
New Jersey, home to Walt Whitman.
I've got to run.
But linger.
"Did you go to UNC?"

He did, not I.
Too many shots required,
like those for Hepititis C.
No, he doesn't have a library degree.
English, even better.
That means he appreciates poetry.

"So you live in Durham?  Where?"
"Downtown."  Me?  "Near Southpark Square."

Let the man take his break.
There is another place I have to be.
But let me see your face again, hear your voice,
you are beautiful to me.