inside the car
françois and i
could see the light
coming from the
cigarette michele
duvalier was smoking
her husband
declared president
for life looked like
a fat chauffeur
sitting beind the
wheel
françois
and i smiled
the small
procession of cars
slipping past us
in the dark
we did not know
that a few miles
away people were
already celebrating
nor could we see
joy on the faces
of the men who ran
holding knives and
sticks to the place
where papa doc
was buried
tonight even
ghosts will die
as françois and i
walk barefoot
at the center
of port-au-prince