He was the color of buttered almonds
hair locked into magnificent chunks of pride
matted with wisdom

He wore his blackness tight but his spirit hung free
like a tailored Armani suit
made with only him in mind

The jet black contrast of his roots with tinted ends
playing against his skin made me want him
or should I say lust him…I sinned

Observing the way that he talks
I’m watching his lips keep a permanent kiss
his eyes speaking all that his mouth would not

Mmm Mmmm Mmmm
those eyes…
I know he saw me… seeing him
Looked through me
saw my fears
my desires
and possibly the little freak in me

The freak that takes to voyeurism during the day
while no one notices
my eyes searing through their soul
checking empty spaces
hollow places
that no one knows

The freak who wonders… wants to know how it feels
to make love to a man with hair like that
a man so black like that…
Alice Walker says, its like the mating of lions…

Oh God To See Him Walk!!!
I swear I could hear the beat of a drum in the distance
It was the sound of home… Mother Africa calling me to him
I could even feel me dancing a little to its rhythm… it moved me!

Yeah he was foine!
And he knew it too
I’m damn sure his woman knows it…
cause she just caught me staring at him…

I can still hear the beat of the drum in the distance
and dance my ass to the beat anyway
but in another direction
cause brother ain’t mine...
but Damn Him for Being so Fine!