love song

as far as acrobatics

I know no girls who can; slip out their joints and

pull a perfectly good thigh over their heads. Sex

for those over 55 is no demonstration of agility/

it's more like being acid washed, then streaked

in a sticky solution. And I am happy

that, this night, the street lights

didn't work at all and only shadows appeared

wise and elsewhere. That sepulchral nights

make the moon and all the other crazy fuckers

who loosened the dark sky from their White friends,

agreeable.

Granddad had a mistress, another family in fact,

just like his father, born into slavery. Love doesn't

mean you didn't take another mans last name.

Only that you held the blessed hand of one who

picked cotton and with deep emotion, clutched

as tight as you could. And let me be clear

of the circumstances under which Achilles kicked

some a*s in Troy. My friend Andre,

his brown skin dry and indehiscent, would tear off

his tee-shirt before he scrapped. Then glistened

with greatness in that vulnerable,

heroic sun.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

we find love in all the wrong places sometimes...but no regrets...we do what we do, and with whom we do it...that is the way.

but once we are over 55---yes, the acrobatics aren't part of it, instead, we are feeling lucky if there is a good enough spark ,and if we can survive the fire---with only slight burns that allow us to strike the match the next time...wherever and with whomever that might be.

leaving the shirt on. untorn.

[W.k.kortas]

You do have a tendency to sneak up on us. This all starts innocently enough, with a simple matter-of-fact statement as to how time and gravity eventually conspire against us, but soon we are faced with patrimony stretching all the way back to myth and back to the myths of the streets, and it all feels natural, never abrupt--no parlor tricks, no verbal bombasts, no hey-look-at-how-clever-I-am. It all seems to progress naturally, like the appearance of crocuses where you'd have sworn there was snow just yesterday.