Black Poetry : Trains Don’t Come They Arrive

PatriceCQueen

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Aug 28, 2001
385
13
Brooklyn
Occupation
I teach Teen Health
He said this with the greatest flirtation
I played along cause his locks were smart and solid
Resembling a long lost protector
He spoke as his dark complexion told another tale
His words came as a storyteller
Blending English and urban subway legends

I did not want to interrupt him
His Trinidadian twang hypnotic
While he talked about giant mice in the subways
Standing on hind legs and becoming regal monsters
We traded words while watching a young mouse
Holding his ground as the train arrived into the station

He morphed back into a stranger
As he boarded the train
Beautiful to look at
I watched him sitting in his jean jacket
Sporting matching pants
While working on his Soduku puzzle

I wondered what he deferred
To become American
Living in New York
Marking each day
So the bills are paid

In a world where less and less we woo Goddess
Dream of making a mark in the universe
Men pacing small steps preferring not to be giants
I want to hear him talk again
About how my words misrepresent my reality
Telling me of his visions… the things he sees
Sometimes men have something to impart to women
The things they are forgetting to say

Patrice C. Queen
 

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