Shake Loose My Skin (5 page)

don’t let them kill you with their stare
don’t let them closet you with no air
don’t let them feed you sex piecemeal
don’t let them offer you any old deal.

i say. step back sisters. we’re rising from the dead
i say. step back johnnies. we’re dancing on our heads
i say. step back man. no mo hangin by a thread
i say. step back world. can’t let it all go unsaid.

(2)

i say. all you young girls molested at ten
i say. all you young girls giving it up again & again
i say. all you sisters hanging out in every den
i say. all you sisters needing your own oxygen.

don’t let them trap you with their coke
don’t let them treat you like one fat joke
don’t let them bleed you till you broke
don’t let them blind you in masculine smoke.

i say. step back sisters. we’re rising from the dead
i say. step back johnnies. we’re dancing on our heads
i say. step back man. no mo hanging by a thread.
i say. step back world. can’t let it go unsaid.

(for the ANC and Brandywine Peace Community)

Our vision is our voice
we cut through the country
where madmen goosestep in tune to Guernica.

we are people made of fire
we walk with ceremonial breaths
we have condemned talking mouths.

we run without legs
we see without eyes
loud laughter breaks over our heads.

give me courage so I can spread
it over my face and mouth.

we are secret rivers
with shaking hips and crests
come awake in our thunder
so that our eyes can see behind trees.

for the world is split wide open
and you hide your hands behind your backs
for the world is broken into little pieces
and you beg with tin cups for life.

are we not more than hunger and music?
are we not more than harlequins and horns?
are we not more than color and drums?
are we not more than anger and dance?

give me courage so I can spread it
over my face and mouth.

we are the shakers
walking from top to bottom in a day
we are like Shango
involving ourselves in acts
that bring life to the middle
of our stomachs

we are coming towards you madmen
shredding your death talk
standing in front with mornings around our waist
we have inherited our prayers from
the rain
our eyes from the children of Soweto.

red rain pours over the land
and our fire mixes with the water.

give me courage so I can spread
it over my face and mouth.

(for Mungu, Morani, Monica, and Andrew and Crefeld seniors)

So much of growing up is an unbearable waiting. A constant longing for another time. Another season.

I remember walking like you today down this path. In love with the day. Flesh awkward. I sang at the edge of adolescence and the scent of adulthood rushed me and I thought I would suffocate. But I didn’t. I am here. So are you. Finally. Tired of tiny noises your eyes hum a large vibration.

I think all journeys are the same. My breath delighting in the single dawn. Yours. Walking at the edge. Unafraid. Anxious for the unseen dawns are mixing today like the underground rhythms seeping from your pores.

At this moment your skins living your eighteen years suspend all noises. Your days still half-opened, crackle like the fires to come. Outside. The earth. Wind. Night. Unfold for you. Listen to their sounds. They have sung me seasons that never abandoned me. A dance of summer rain. A ceremony of thunder waking up the earth to human monuments.

Facing each other I smile at your faces. Know you as young heroes soon to be decorated with years. Hope no wars dwarf you. Know your dreams wild and sweet will sail from your waists to surround the non-lovers. Dreamers. And you will rise up like newborn armies refashioning lives. Louder than the sea you come from.

the unspoken word
is born, i see it in our
eyes dancing

She hadn’t found anything. i had been careful. No lipstick. No matches from a well-known bar. No letters. Cards. Confessing an undying love. Nothing tangible for her to hold onto. But i knew she knew. It had been on her face, in her eyes for the last nine days. It was the way she looked at me sideways from across the restaurant table as she picked at her brown rice sushi. It was the way she paused in profile while inspecting my wolfdreams. It was the way her mouth took a detour from talk. And then as we exited the restaurant she said it quite casually: i know there’s another woman. You must tell me about her when we get home.

Yeah. There was another woman. In fact there were three women. In Florida, California, and North Carolina. Places to replace her cool detachment of these last years. No sex for months. Always tired or sick or off to some conference designed to save the world from racism or extinction. If i had jerked off one more time in bed while lying next to her it woulda dropped off. Still i wondered how she knew.

am i dressed right for the smoke?
will it wrinkle if i fall?

    
i had first felt something was wrong at the dinner party. His colleague’s house. He was so animated. The first flush of his new job i thought. He spoke staccato style. Two drinks in each hand. His laughter. Wild. Hard. Contagious as shrines enveloped the room. He was so wired that i thought he was going to explode. i didn’t know the people there. They were all lawyers. Even the wives were lawyers. Glib and self-assured. Discussing cases, and colleagues. Then it happened. A small hesitation on his part. In answer to a question as to how he would be able to get some important document from one place to another, he looked at the host and said: They’ll get it to me. Don’t worry. And the look passing back and forth between the men told of collusion and omission. Told of dependence on other women for information and confirmation. Told of nites i had stretched out next to him and he was soft. Too soft for my open legs. And i turned my back to him and the nites multiplied out loud. As i drove home from the party i asked him what was wrong? What was bothering him? Were we okay? Would we make love tonite? Would we ever make love again? Did my breath stink? Was i too short? Too tall? Did i talk too much? Should i wear lipstick? Should i cut my hair? Let it grow? What did he want for dinner tomorrow nite? Was i driving too fast? Too slow? What is wrong man? He said i was always exaggerating. Imagining things. Always looking for trouble.

Do they have children?
one does.

Are they married?
one is.

They’re like you then.
yes.

How old are they?
thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four.

What do they do?
an accountant and two lawyers.

They’re like you then.
yes.

Do they make better love than i do?
i’m not answering that.

Where did you meet?
when i traveled on the job.

Did you make love in hotels?
yes.

Did you go out together?
yes.

To bars? To movies? To restaurants?
yes.

Did you make love to them all nite?
yes.

And then got up to do your company work?
yes.

And you fall asleep on me right after
dinner. After work. After walking the dog.
yes.

Did you buy them things?
yes.

Did you talk on the phone with them every day?
yes.

Do you tell them how unhappy you are
with me and the children?
yes.

Do you love them? Did you say that you
loved them while making love?
i’m not answering that.

can i pull my bones
together while skeletons
come out of my head?

i am preparing for him to come home. i have exercised. Soaked in the tub. Scrubbed my body. Oiled myself down. What a beautiful day it’s been. Warmer than usual. The cherry blossoms on the drive are blooming prematurely. The hibiscus are giving off a scent around the house. i have gotten drunk off the smell. So delicate. So sweet. So loving. i have been sleeping, no, daydreaming all day. Lounging inside my head. i am walking up this hill. The day is green. All green. Even the sky. i start to run down the hill and i take wing and begin to fly and the currents turn me upside down and i become young again childlike again ready to participate in all children’s games.

She’s fucking my brains out. I’m so tired i just want to put my head down at my desk. Just for a minute. What is wrong with her? For one whole month she’s turned to me every nite. Climbed on top of me. Put my dick inside her and become beautiful. Almost birdlike. She seemed to be flying as she rode me. Arms extended. Moving from side to side. But my God. Every night. She’s fucking my brains out. I can hardly see the morning and I’m beginning to hate the nite.

He’s coming up the stairs. i’ve opened the venetian blinds. i love to see the trees outlined against the night air. Such beauty and space. i have oiled myself down for the night. i slept during the day. He’s coming up the stairs. i have been waiting for him all day. i am singing a song i learned years ago. It is pretty like this nite. Like his eyes.

I can hardly keep my eyes open. Time to climb out of bed. Make the 7:20 train. My legs and bones hurt. i’m outta condition. Goddamn it. She’s turning my way again. She’s smiling. Goddamn it.

What a beautiful morning it is. i’ve been listening to the birds for the last couple hours. How beautifully they sing. Like sacred music. i got up and exercised while he slept. Made a cup of green tea. Oiled my body down. Climbed back into bed and began to kiss him all over . . .

Ted. Man. i’m so tired i can hardly eat this food. But i’d better eat cuz i’m losing weight. You know what man. i can’t even get a hard-on when another bitch comes near me. Look at that one there with that see-through skirt on. Nothing. My dick is so limp only she can bring it up. And she does. Every nite. It ain’t normal is it for a wife to fuck like she does. Is it man? It ain’t normal. Like it ain’t normal for a woman you’ve lived with for twenty years to act like this.

She was killing him. He knew it. As he approached their porch he wondered what it would be tonite. The special dinner. The erotic movie. The whirlpool. The warm oil massage until his body awakened in spite of himself. In spite of an 18-hour day at the office. As he approached the house he hesitated. He had to stay in control tonite. This was getting out of hand.

She waited for him. In the bathroom. She’d be waiting for him when he entered the shower. She’d come in to wash his back. Damn these big walk-in showers. No privacy. No time to wash yourself and dream. She’d come with those hands of hers. Soaking him. On the nipples. Chest. Then she’d travel on down to his thing. He sweet peter jesus. So tired. So forlorn. And she’d begin to tease him. Play with him. Suck him until he rose up like some fucking private first class. Anxious to do battle. And she’d watch him rise until he became Captain Sweet Peter. And she’d climb on him. Close her eyes.

honey. it’s too much you know.
What?

all this sex. it’s getting so i can’t concentrate.
Where?

at the office. at lunch. on the train. on planes.
all i want to do is sleep.
Why?

you know why. every place i go you’re there.
standing there. smiling. waiting, touching.
Yes.

in bed. i can’t turn over and you’re there.
lips open. smiling, all revved up.
Aren’t you horny too?

yes. but enough’s enough. you’re my wife. it’s
not normal to fuck as much as you do.
No?

it’s not well, nice, to have you talk the way
you talk when we’re making love.
No?

can’t we go back a little, go back to our
normal life when you just wanted to sleep at
nite and make love every now and then? like me.
No.

what’s wrong with you. are you having a nervous
breakdown or something?
No.

if i become the
other woman will i be
loved like you loved her?

And he says i don’t laugh. All this he says while he’s away in California for one week. But i’ve been laughing all day. All week. All year. i know what to do now. i’ll go outside and give it away. Since he doesn’t really want me. My love. My body. When we make love his lips swell up. His legs and arms hurt. He coughs. Drinks water. Develops a strain at his butt-hole. Yeah. What to do now. Go outside and give it away. Pussy. Sweet. Black pussy. For sale. Wholesale pussy. Right here. Sweet black pussy. Hello there Mr. Mailman. What’s your name again? Oh yes. Harold. Can i call you Harry? How are you this morning? Would you like some cold water it’s so hot out there. You want a doughnut a cookie some cereal some sweet black pussy? Oh God. Man. Don’t back away. Don’t run down the steps. Oh my God he fell. The mail is all over the sidewalk. hee hee hee. Guess i’d better be more subtle with the next one. hee hee hee. He’s still running down the block. Mr. Federal Express Man. Cmon over here. Let me Fed Ex you and anyone else some Sweet Funky Pure Smelling Black Pussy. hee hee hee.

I shall become his collector of small things; become his collector of burps, biceps and smiles; I shall bottle his farts, frowns and creases; I shall gather up his moans, words, outbursts wrap them in blue tissue paper; get to know them; watch them grow in importance; file them in their place in their scheme of things; I shall collect his scraps of food; ferret them among my taste buds; allow each particle to saunter into my cells; all aboard; calling all food particles; cmon board this fucking food express; climb into these sockets golden with brine; I need to taste him again.