I was in the shotgun seat
in 1960 Lansing Michigan
headed straight as a harddrive
through ghettoizing “Negra Section”
hunting down our commercial whitebread
heavenly ThriftMart,
Wanna be a WalMart
but not Southern enough,
somehow,
to withstand straight-male competition
in fluent White Privileged culture
favoring evangelical
monotheistic
monoculturing AnthroSupremacists
Kinda like
patriarchal-capitalist
anal-retentive pathological trauma
homophobic nature v panentheistic erotic spirit
kinda unenlightened Left unhealthy
and disempowered Right unsafe colonizing wealth
win/lose hoarding
apartheid community trauma dissociative
chronic supremacist anxiety disorders
degenerating unhealthy inside whites only classrooms
contrasting this all black and brown summer outside classroom
feeling shared healthier and safer hearts.
School would soon reopen.
We were on our way to buy
back to school
shirts and jeans,
and whitey tighties
and Elvis Presley-worthy
and 3rd grade new classmate
Arturo Hernandez
disturbing white T-shirts.
A warm August mid-western
urban day
for us white family farmers
traveling East
when a dark-skinned gorgeous boy
my same eight years of age
riding his bike
right out along a cracked
and broken
tree-lined sidewalk
with other kids around
playing hot hopscotch
near a sun-baked naked curb.
He looked over.
With my window down
I felt
and smelled
his shared fragrance
for a moment brown eye to blue
so improbably in love with
you
are who I was made for.
Maybe we could become
boyfriends
and then old-school married
naked together, sometime
someday
somewhere
by accident
discovering we both explore pleasure
favored with him brown-eyed beautiful above
and me under
blue-eyed wide ginger
passionate red-curly-headed
MeWe luscious
wrapped around his waist,
both wanting to give
and to conceive
As I can mostly missionary
dimly historically remember
sounds,
dim sight,
and fertile smell
when her egg
was open-whole systemically
fertilized by spraying Yangstrong
sperm informing
incoming
integral potentiating
seed
and feed
and breed
and bleed
and need
and divine peaking deed
He drove racing athletically
just to tie
our metallic bronze-skinned Ford
sedate, seats six, sedan
on his battered red bicycle
3-speed
His only helmet a handsome head
full fuzzy, yet glossy,
glistening in noon-day summer’s seismic sun,
crow-black
tight-curled
gracious gotta-touch it
play with
feel him
His warm wet scalp massaged,
his salty lips tasted,
his breath and nether sacred
dualdark parts
breathed in
absorbed
until my breath nearly stopped
Then he fell behind,
and was gone
until I met you
And there he was
this eight year old glamorous
brown-skinned boy
now grown
into his handsome thirties
Wanting me
to love him,
and only him,
to worship if I want,
as will he
in sacred
1/0 double-Taurus
1960’s HolySpirit co-passion
for playing only win/win peak hotness
co-governing robustly resonant
co-relations
Reparations
if you will
then so will I
GoldenRule give with you
what all StraightWhiteMale
patriarchal monotheists
would most fear
slatternly given away
in lust for men of color
in that unimageable
thighs spread needy open
way
LeftBrain dominantly win/lose
either/or zero-sum competitors
Left v Right polynomials
reweaving Left-with-Right bicamerals
polyculturing communion, not monoculturing competition,
creolizing, not colonizing,
cooperating, not hunting down
for a profitable military-industrial
LeftBrain dominant
ecopolitical kill
Not yet nightmarish anxious climate imagined
when I was eight years old
in our Ford’s shotgun seat
back in 1960 Lansing Michigan
headed unstraight white
male as a harddrive
through ghettoizing “Negra Section”
distracted by our up and outing
cold cash is sacred manna
ThriftMart.
