Receipt

You couldn't tell me    
That I wasn't  
Grown    
When my Mother    
Sent me    
Not only to    
My dance teacher    
By myself    
But to pay my own    
Tuition    
My bedroom door    
Sealed it with a kiss    
Thanks to the leather    
Belt that hung there    
“Nutsy (that was my nickname), don’t forget    
To bring that receipt    
Back home with you”    
And she gave me cash=    
I remember being    
Stuck between    
An oversized    
“Members Only”    
Jacket    
Or something close    
And them jeans    
With the rainbow    
Skate on 1 of the      
Back pockets    
And white strings    
Waving bye bye    
In the mean    
City streets    
To go downstairs=    
To the cafe    
And buy myself a pastry    
In between learning    
My body couldn’t quite    
Reach that top countertop yet    
So the cashier got it for me    
We paid and, on our way,    
We went    
Which usually meant    
Back upstairs for the    
Jam session    
Institutional shake down    
And there was    
The “in session” sign    
On the double doors    
So, nobody was typically      
Gonna    
Just throw them open    
To see    
Whatever    
(Unless they were supposed to be inside)    
     
A kid looking at it    
Like this, like that and like that    
(left, right and down)    
Laying it out      
And I had to    
Work the room    
To get    
A comprehensive      
View      
“Of that”    
(Watching    
Her own flatulence;    
Swollen,    
In the mirror    
With something like    
David Shire’s      
Salsation    
Playing    
And she was def; bad)    
Me: Walking backward    
Real slow    
Me: Walking sideways    
Real slow    
(To the music)    
Which was    
More enlightening    
Than the first time    
I accidentally    
Found my uncle’s    
Playboy magazine    
And saw pink    
Upper body parts    
For the first time    
(He was bored  
That day,  
Cause that    
Wasn’t his thing)    
With something like    
Adulthood    
Grinding up    
On me    
Making      
“It”    
Laugh    
Just by proxy    
(Finally noticed).    
Of the dance    
Instructors    
Being gay black men    
Except for her of course.    
They attracted    
A certain clientele    
A few HS students,    
A couple more college    
Students    
But mostly grown people    
And a miniature    
Person    
Throwing down    
Right with them.    
Children weren’t exactly    
On the list but    
For some reason    
My Mother thought    
They were the best      
Fit    
“Hey baby,    
It wouldn’t take much    
For you to be a bum    
Now would it?;    
How was dance class    
Today?;    
Was Fuji there?”    
     
(That was my Mother talking)