March 13 I Say to You Now

this is the feeling to be enamored.

I missed it, and I did not.

I thought that I had grown,

and when I went home,

"----" would never happen again.

Paralyzed to move even a finger.

The line that connects my thoughts and

my mouth, tongue, throat, lungs

disconnected, scrambled, connected

again askew.

Making whats best. Attaching the

wire in my radio.

My brain throbbing, drinking so

much from my tongue and lips

my armpits, feet, hot.

My stomach clenched.

I taught myself, here the most important

lesson-

don't let people move you from your center.

Not for rushing

Not for guilt.

Not for anger.

Teasing.

Injustice-it is not in you-its in them.

But love.

What is there to do but everything I can to avoid you.

I can't train my lips-if I do-they twitch.

My eyes-they can't look at you.

This is an average love story.

I never see you as black.

Or Senegalese.

I know you don't see me as that either.

I see your two bright eyes-

you are my match.

You beat me.

And you did it all on your own.

But God tells me what he does for

all the times I do not listen.

All the small things added up.

Equals the time I see you leave

my house.

I am holding Umi's hand to go

looking for apples.

It is dusk.

You have just told me you don't love me.

I ask if you are lost.

You say you are waiting for someone.

And there she comes-

thin, slight, pixily dressed.