WORD

I REMEMBER NEW ORLEANS

I remember the anticipation

the packing

too many phone calls to plan the arrival

the wait

the flight

the anticipation of the very first date

realization that he was late

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I remember the air

not thick or sticky like they said

the evidence that

he did his breathing there

inhale exhale yawn sign

blink of my eye

​

I remember the cab

American made

the map of the city

fashion, business

french quarter was ticking

The gracious host

More polite than most

"Welcome Miss"

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I remember the hotel

I had made the right choice

check-in, gift shop, restaurant, bar

no pool

don't act a fool

just call home and let them know its' cool

​

he knocks

heart drops

​

we smile

embrace

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I remember those seconds

the hands on the waist

the sweat on the face

should I let go now?

​

ok now...

or later

​

I remember the tour

daiquiri, hurricane

hurricane, daiquiri

aren't they one in the same?

riverboat, casino

French vs. Spanish

Cajun vs Creole

authentic vs. tourism

daiquiri, hurricane

hurricane, daiquiri

aren't they one in the same?

po-boys, cemetery, streetcar

is it far?

​

Cafe du Monde first

The Marriott for brunch

Copelands' for lunch

That other place just to munch

then crunch...

and now suck the head he said

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I remember the walk

he insisted it slow

I remember looking down

he pointed to the moon

I remember ignoring the homeless

he stopped

just so they could talk

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I remember his hand

I held it for days

I remember good-bye

tears escaping from my eye

I remember his face

I will never forget this place.

I met this brotha that was seemingly like all the others.

Good-lookin' fine and he dropped a few decent lines.

​

But I wasn't feeling him in that kinda way.

Cuz I was happy alone courting Chanté.

​

I tried to graciously back out and present,

"It's not you, just doing me, I'm not really ready, not in the place I wanna be.

​

He stared and smiled with a hint of a frown but continued to purposefully looked me up, down, he looked all around. 

He said, "I'm feeling you lady, I like what I see.

 I'm committed to making you love every part of me, so get used to the idea cuz that's just the way its gon be. 

You are looking at a grown Black man with tenacity."

Now I have to admit, I was taken by his style

so I let him linger on my couch for a while.

Conversation was great, he asked for a proper date. I laughed but from his big strong palms I emotionally ate.

​

Then I realized, albeit I was late but did he really just say he had tenacity?  Is he macking me down like we're at a middle school spelling bee?

Is this  a brotha that's really willing to wait?  I questioned whether or not he had what it takes.  What is takes to wait and go out on more than 2 dates

Could he endured my sensitivity and what if I gain a little weight.

Will he understand the fullness of who I am and will he realize I need him to help me be the good woman I am?

Will he survive my preoccupation with the past?  Could he really be the love that finally lasts?

Shit, what am I thinking? 

This negro can kiss my ass,

cuz I've been here before,

you know the threshold of destiny's door?

When you ring the bell and wait so long that you wonder if the shit even works anymore.

Should I ring it again, knock some more?  Or maybe I 'll just go on around to the side door.

But do I really want to deal with the world behind the gate.

There's probably a pit-bull or a nasty lil snake.  Hell with my luck I'll trip on a rusty old rake. 

Knowing good-well he shouldn't leave this mess laying behind...

but wait...

Is that?

some of this stuff looks like it's mine.

​

Um hmm, yep shol do!

This nigga got my shit!

Guard down two minutes and I've already started to slip.

That low self esteem, I wasn't through with it.

And there goes my fear piled up next to the grudges I been holding since senior year.

He had filled up the sandbox with my salty disposition and my gritty personality.

And I planned on throwing that shade he had tucked so neatly beneath that tree.

I just can't figure out when he got all these things away from me.

On his enclosed back porch was my first tiki torch still hot and on fire burning for an old flame.

My goodness, this mess is a got-damned shame.

There goes my heartache and I believe that's my pain.

And no wonder I couldn't find anyone else to blame.

And up on a clothes line, he had two cents, a nickel and my very last dime.

No need to guess I know the money is mine.

This man had even even started a compost full of my wasted time.

​

He smiled at my shock and took me by the hand. 

I needed to take your things to make room for a grown black man.

I needed to make room for what's is rightfully supposed to be yours.

You've been praying and waiting but baby you left no room to even open the door. 

I was embarrassed that I fell for his tricks, his charm, those arms and that fancy fragrant designer wick. I didn't ask you to come clean up all my shit.  I've been building this collection for most of my life?  A real man would have know that this ain't right.  You don't get to come take what's mine.  I couldn't believe I'd fallen for the same old nonsense another fucking time.  

I fought back a tear, he pulled me close to interrupted my next line. 

His hands felt so good as they supported my spine. 

My mind was content to be independent, self-sufficient, carefree.

But all my stuff is where I had buried the lonely. It was hidden and still if I left it all just where.  The weight of it exposed was too much to bare so I relaxed in his arms I knew I was supposed to be there.

I slowly began to understand the he got rid of my mess to make room to cover me with the love of grown-ass Black MAN.

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