by Autumn Lee Falkon


Had this been a late-night 1920's movie house
Our forms would exploit the thoughts
of strangers going by

I'd be dressed in black satin and lace
shimmying my hair, my dress
and all my personal charns
You'd be dressed in a dark gray,
doublebreasted flannel suit
The faces about us would presume that
you were a heavy-set black man
Your shaded fedora
and gold piece hanging from its chain
would command attention

We'd be in the "colored" part of town
watching scenes from "The Sheik"
Your eyes would be on the exposure of my thighs
not on the opulent sands of the desert before us
Those Spanish-African orbs of yours
would request a touch of me
in that darkness

I'd reply by placing my coat over my lap
pretending to be chilled
your hand would slip past my garter
I wouldn't move
but I
would enjoy your fingers
warm, tender, lady fingers
Testing for troubled waters

I'm sure you'd lose your thumb ring
somewhere between the honey of my flesh
and the rhythm of your caress

Eventually, we would have forgotten the move
Our attention would be circulating
within the crescendo of the music
The melodies would give tribute to a man
pretending to be our color
I'd begin to cry
Others would think
I was lamenting over a love episode
but I am a current much stronger
than the Nile

Soon, the curtains would close,
the elderly lady by her sentimental piano
would take her bow
Your hot lips could briefly touch mine
making our bodies ovations
in a fractured time
we would be in that instant
dark, sweet images in motion.

THE END

Copyright © 1998. Used by permission of the author. All rights reserved.