ODE TO A BROWN BOY
You messaged me in late December on okcupid
You were 19.
I was annoyed.
You couldn’t even buy me a drank.
I thought you were a cute, innocent teenager.
I’ve never been so wrong in my life.
I could swear off white boys right now.
No white boy appreciates my curves.
The way I speak
My ever changing brown skin
My hair that changes from kinky naps to long flowing weave
My desire to kiss during an Ella Fitzgerald song
The way my hips and ass move to a rap song
Your luscious lips aren’t foreign to me
They feel like home
Your afro is more familiar to me than the stringy blond strands I’ve touched before
Your slight accent is a reminder that my tongue has it’s own rhythm
Two sets of brown eyes gazing at each other
Your brown body feels so much better than the pale bodies from before
I could talk about rice and chicken all day with you
When you speak Spanish, it’s nothing different than my vernacular
I call you “boo” under my breath a lot
Though I’ve called white boys that and I wish I could find another word to describe my affection for you.
you’re the brown boy I crush on
my brown bunny…..conejito
My matching set of brown eyes
and brown skin
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