i knew after he came i
would never see him again
the encounter
the truth
he could never face it
again
or me
i would serve as
nothing more than a reminder of who and what he is
the fact
the fly in his lemonade
the corn in his shyt
but for a moment
i thought i could help
him overcome by cumming
by helping to release
the built up tension
by giving him a sample
of what radical love felt like
by giving him me
and for a moment it
worked
he was saved
thank ya
Jesus!
but as backsliders do,
he fell
he could not stand to
be strong
to face the consequence
of being “found out”
to have to tell his
boys his boy is his boy
his mama would not
understand
his daddy would not
care, he wasn’t there
his heart broke into a
thousand pieces of innocent little black babies beneath his jersey
he dribbled out of my
life
a dream deferred
years and nightmares
later i would see him again
a victim of
circumstance
a weak soul conquered
by society’s desire to keep all little black boys straight and fucking only
pussy
never in love with
anyone or anything but the brutha he could not have cause mama sat in the amen
corner of her church and her baby was in college and star of the basketball
team
crack was my
replacement
a drug that erased it
all
feelings he could not
deal with
the feeling of radical love
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