It was wet sweaty sound banging against drums / Our bodies held together too tight for strangers, rhythms moving us closer / Too much excessed, falling from my hips, thighs, arms, chest she got nearer, gases mixing becoming solid, just to liquify again / A drop: of sweat, in the bass a signal, and she turned around, her ass finding my nothing front /
“You think you a boy, huh?”
My life don’t last all that long. Longest there was,
was when the ice cream truck would creep
along the street, slow enough for me
to catch it, too fast for a shirt to get thrown on .
Her hips rushing with mine her waves rippling against the water pooling in my
“You really think you a boy, don’t you?”
My chest started
getting big, bigger than all the boys
near and far
from my age, then my days started getting shorter .
I grabbed her, my fingertips buried in her warmth, I was lava viscous as I ran down her lower back /
“You wanna be a boy?”
A shorter time, the day I could
only have pickled peppers for lunch. I spent hours then,
counting and collecting pennies, maybe a dime
if He thought I did good that day, counting up
to a hundred or a hundred and thirty
to splurge on an
excess
of sprinkles for my cone, to
stray me further from the boys, since I couldn’t ever find
the four hundred
needed to get a big papa to fill me up.
She seized me turning me solid to feel the real me / She grabbed me, dragged me through blurred faces and blue black red green bodies. Eager to be out, her grasp tightened, all the while I was made to melt in her palms /
air / outside / cold / solid again /
“You wanna be a boy.”
My soul’s two inches tall when I’m black, and he grows taller
when he’s blue, which
my mother never cared for
all that much
I was liquid then the glass of water prayed for when we first made it in / She rivered across the mattress sheets drowning in her thickness / My chest overflowed, turned to moths in oil drowned in excess / Too much for me, my hands, my mouth she looked up at me from underneath, almost open gasping gas I was /
“You wanna be a boy.”
I’m much too blue
for them to see me now, like the trailing sounds
of that ice cream truck I missed,
digging in between the vents, hoping for the blessing of a nickel.
I was the first cigarette, untouched out of a new pack, she inhaled me / She held on for a loooong while, deep in her lungs just till I could gather myself / Enough to see my solid,
blue black red green body and blurred face again in the mirror at the back of the bar the bass shaking the ice in my glass
