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i never touched her heart : poem eight
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)
i placed every finger except my pinky in places her mama told her to keep from boys
and put my head in places her mama told her to put powder on
i didn't want her to feel loved by me
we both believe in truths
no one could love another in this life
on this planet
not today my textbook and calendars says
i needed her to be touched
i need her to understand me by what this calendar says is tomorrow
she loves the computer coded me
the winter coated me
she aint yet met summer
not with me
but she's waiting and hoping he's different
me too
the ones after this coded coated me are all different
they convince them i lied then occupy space on their fingers
a leash on their left hand
it was only right that they left
they're good women for leaving
i've never learned the art of blaming properly thanks to doreen walker who became doreen wells and blamed my real father quietly
i saved space on her left pulsating chest
and into that space every follower poured themselves fingertips first - reciprocating
and that's all she ever really wanted
crazy beautiful : poem seven
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)
she's the crazy beautifull
the "i understand why niggas get killed over chicks" type broad
ponytail and sandals
and a flatbush attitude
she's crazy
the "i must look crazy for staring at her like this" type crazy beautiful
i want to write movies about her
cast no names
cause aint no actress as fine as she is right now
where she going?
let's share a stop beautiful
read my thoughts and prove your powers
she'll get off downtown brooklyn and meet up with some nigga that aint been shit since his friends left him for college
they'll talk about his mixtape over a pepsi and she'll tell him how much she supports him
franklin ave.
bye
fuck crayola - they lie (to the man on the train and the woman beside him)
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)
there's a white man sitting across from me
he don't see me though
he don't see color
i am color
i am that blue coming out of the shitting end of miles' trumpet
he knows why coltrane heard voices we never knew about
the reason he played with his back to the audience
coltrane - not the white man
she could play the wife
he look at her
and they exit
