North Central Texas

North Central Texas

when I hear that word,

(((Texas)))

whispered in fear

or used as a motto

for the love of freedom

the love of hate

or revolution and exclusion,

my reaction is seldom different-

Texas-time thinking evokes:

broad-leafed, up-north humidity

Catfish as long as my arm

perfect Springrolls

and dark skin on sheets of Egyptian Damask

Texas,

say it slow and careful,

like stepping through a barbed wire fence

or watching that fire-bug Lightning

lick the Buffalo grass

of a sunset horizon

in the high-time fullness

of a skinny dipping Summer

My desire for her was

longer than any Texas loose dirt road

but her knees,

bent, spread and dreaming,

yearned for the deep red clay

of a Graveyard’s more serious soil

Texas will always remind me of

going down on a Black Woman with a Brazilian

who tasted like Freedom,

and whose gentle swell

of breasts and abdomen

are still the only

Lone Star postcards I need

I find myself

on quiet occasions thinking,

filled with smiles-

Texas…

I want another mouthful of you