you don’t… that’s the answerto most of our questions. hunny, do i how tocome down if i’m always highin heels, pills, sex, and booze?you don’t sweetie. sweetie, do i love youif every time i meet a womanlike that (you know, like that)i have you on my arms?you don’t hunny. and on, and onwe tear each other downit’s our love language it keeps us togetherit keeps us undone

poppa taught me how to fight and i’m daddy’s girlso i ain’t no bitch, except that bitch and any trick that steps to me ’bout her manbetter watch her knees, before i break ’em and i’ll try but i won’t, can’t stop myselffrom really hurtin’ her by letting her know thatme and her man fucked again last nightlaughed again last night, ’bout how curvy she ain’t’bout how ugly she is without makeupas i wear makeup as i’ve worn makeupto mask these eyes pops gave meas he was toughening me up tough like the black-and-blue leather beltaround my girl’s man’s neckafter he came over, to cum over me’cause he thought we…

the first lesson on appearance don’t talk too muchdon’t smile too often don’t express your inner universewith your eyes and don’t laugh with joywhile complimenting everyone or the average woman will assumeyou’re gay, but closeted and they’ll friend-zone youwith the kind intention of beingthat one friendthat you confide in and since you mostly can’twon’t, change a woman’s mindonce she’s made it up it’s best to avoid thembeing wrong about youand your sexuality in the first place but, all of thatall of this is a lot easier as a manif you don’t care aboutwhat women think of you this isn’t a movie just ask any womanwho’s learnt not to careabout what…

honestly, you’re easylike i told you“leave your city foreverand i’ll love you for just as long” and, finally, that wasn’t too much to want you’re easy like shy weatheri wanted to stay for you and so i didand i didn’t know i knew how you’re easy like four-leaf clovers, like morning dewlike not believing my luck while holding you like holding the body of your guitar, my fingers warmelectric notes rising like hair as i play you with my tongueyour legs like spread wings amidst the angels’ choirmy teeth biting into peaches that shame even Eden’s pears it’s blasphemous but even God would pause to staretime standing still as you…

you my shortie thursdayyou got me sloppy thirsty’cause you throw it back like …like Zimbabwe? nah, like

now, what’s love but a wonderful mess? you yelling “yes, yes, yes!”king and queen, sex like chesssex like contests of transgressionsnever-ending sessions of concessionswith breaks for food strawberries, champagne, and cashewsyou came, i came too, on youtwo too many to’s turn into threes after reviewbut plans with your boo fell through now we’re cuckoo in the strip club on a wednesdayme yelling “ay bay bay, ay bay bay, let’s jay!”you already midway through your match playalready sweet and slaying like tooth decayand the DJ sways, plays reggae for our getaway now it’s sweat like petty cash, hair like whiplashyour breaths catch while your nails scratchthreesomes like a world wrestling matchflasks…

i figured i could do better than a “u up?” textbetter than some eggplants with no subtextbetter than me being the only one that’s direct so here i am, textin’ you about street foodabout eating eggplant tacos in your swimsuitabout your vegan views amidst servitudeoops, hang on, hold still there’s sauce on your lips, something spicy or sweetermy fingers enter your mouth as you pull me in deeperyou winking, me taking care like a miss demeanour palming extra napkins, like scraps of gracecatching passion crumbs of faithlike dinner and movie and a walk to your place like “hey, u wanna watch Breathless or Scarface?”when all i can think about is…

i was infatuated by zora neale hurstonfor the longest time. i used to think thatshe was a better revolutionarythan james baldwin,than richard wright,than w.e.b. du bois. because when they left americafor france and ghanashe stayed. she stayed,and fought,and as her eyes watched godshe told us that, “no hour is ever eternity,it has its right to weep.”so weep for an hour. but this hour is long,and the day’s light can’t save us. i don’t know what to think anymore. there’s too much pain here. where do you go when evenparis threw copper coins at coltranethe first time he played?