Your kisses taste like the pale violet blues
of midnight on a city street
It reminds me of the Renaissance in Harlem
I move, motivated, migrating to the north
The northernmost point of my affection, directly
Deep, and meaningful, and precise. Black.
Black as in deep, long. Juicy.
And sweet. Honey-like, mellow sounding
Let's take our desire, delight to the Cotton Club,
Beloved.
Let's get dark, darker than the blues
Warmer than jazz dipped in chocolate
Closer.
My soul scats, stronger than Satchmo and Ella,
the near perfection of
Our flavor's motivation enough
for the tangled rhythms of romance.
Let your naked mind paint shaded pictures
of me
with purples undiscovered
and deep strokes.
Our hearts are the art of our own culture
deep
slow
beats.
Our individual dark-skinned selves
a dancing spirit.
A new route, old fashioned
Let's both take the A Train! To
a new root
a revived Renaissance.
