I Love Your Funkified SoulPosted: March 11, 2011
‘Wanna smoke some hash?’
said the middle-age white man flailing his arms around to the funk and soul rhythms pulsing out of the dj booth.
‘Sure’ I replied.
I look over to my friend and he nods in the kind of the way that gives us the okay to move forward.
We stand outside in the rain,
fuzzing my curly hair
and smoke this mans hash
as he tells of his great love for cactus’s and the news.
We tear up the dance floor
four brown faces in a sea of whiteness and glitter
but we don’t care.
I chase the other half-black boy into the back patio
where we steal kisses and touches in the dark.
I come back out to see your smiling brown face
We laugh in the back seats of sports cars that aren’t ours.
We laugh hard because it feels good.
We laugh hard because we are alive
and time is precious and not easy to come by
in days filled with regimented hours.
But sometimes overcast days
bring the promise of cheap wine, backseat sessions, sidewalk dancing, soft kisses
and the beautiful laughter of others.