Langston Ain't Dead

Seriously. I'd love to say more, but clearly I'm letting the ice rain get in the way of my productivity today - so I gotta make this quick.

Today is Langston Hughes' birthday. HOOray!
Happy Bday, bruh.

So I'm looking for a poem to tweet a line or two from and I found this poem.
OMG. Is he talking to me? Scratch that, is he sitting on my shoulder for every other meeting and dinner occasion I've had this month? Eavesdropping at book club perhaps?

All I can say is sankofa.
And this is why poet's will always have a job.


Dinner Guest: Me
by Langston Hughes

I know I am
The Negro Problem
Being wined and dined,
Answering the usual questions
That come to white mind
Which seeks demurely
To Probe in polite way
The why and wherewithal
Of darkness U.S.A.--
Wondering how things got this way
In current democratic night,
Murmuring gently
Over fraises du bois,
"I'm so ashamed of being white."

The lobster is delicious,
The wine divine,
And center of attention
At the damask table, mine.
To be a Problem on
Park Avenue at eight
Is not so bad.
Solutions to the Problem,
Of course, wait.