Wonder Brown

Nita was the baddest bisexual uncouth in the way    
Of a polished young lady, sweet inside      
Skinny jeans belonging to a pair      
Of brown trench coat boots running over      
The heels with sarcasm that broke you in      
As probably once her Mother’s      
Tapered haircut and the wide nose      
Was making the grade those Summers      
My bills returned to work with her      
After the teaching school year ended      
With the highlight of the day:      
Walking over to the adjacent      
Fish and chip joint      
Where we would consequently meet up      
With the other Black feminist world      
That straddled me mostly on the weekends      
Now women’s resistance just wasn’t the type      
To fuck my friends; prudes just didn’t      
Get down quite like that      
(Proper urban hoe)      
But in ideology’s events      
Destressing the work week-     
With the sistahs who worked      
For the crisis hotline      
(Nita and I worked for a fortune 500 company)      
But seeing those two worlds come together      
In diametric opposition        
With only embarrassment in common      
Hustlers and activists      
Really did something to me      
Outed me twice      
The other sistah in particular      
(Can't remember her name)      
From her group      
Dressed like the road to Mecca      
We held each other      
In the eyes through the years      
Coming on with it-      
The long bohemian skirt      
Just couldn’t get enough      
Of itself, boutique top      
And shimmery bandana,      
A short ponytail      
To her sultry ways      
And gladiator sandals      
Clearly homo erecting-      
Telling off on what I did      
In my spare time-      
And also, how      
My money was made      
(With a little less merit      
Yet better pay; residual income)      
To maintain that lifestyle;      
Kicking up smut      
Right past that #blank bus      
Chuckling at desertion      
Into the sunset:      
Thinning the veil      
Between two domains      
Samhain and Beltane      
With political motif      
To assassinate the middle;      
Each side left to wonder      
Who I was most like.