Three tourists by the shore,
Capris and shorts they wore.
Reading the signs, the lore
Casting eyes where birds soar.
At Lady Liberty
They gaze, filled with wonder;
In awe of history,
Founding Fathers ponder.
No time to ferry ride;
Hold hands, walk side by side.
Leaving Battery Park
By foot they head to Wall.
Construction leaves its mark:
They pass Scaffolding Hall.
Three young men talk on stairs
Their skin darker than mine.
To greet hello he dares;
Of brotherhood a sign.
His light he will not hide.
But not a word he speaks
Not because he felt weak
Rather the tallest lad
Spoke first. It made him sad,
For what the tall one said
Echoed around his head;
I can’t repeat it here,
It’s a bit crude I fear.
A euphemism: died.
The tall one asserted
To he who held her hand,
Freckled white on brown tanned,
White would be deserted
If euphemism sought
When being intimate;
Yes, indiscriminate.
His voice in his throat caught.
Words he could not abide.
His heart did palpitate,
His stomach nauseate,
As fight or flight took hold,
His face he painted cold
On they walked, on to Wall
Their pace they slowed, they stalled.
Pondered holes and heroes
While paused at ground zero.
Again the subway ride.
They arrived at Times Square
Soon to get in line where
Tickets were but half-fare;
Until then linger there.
Strolling, his hand she squoze
The gesture he returned.
What happened next, juxtaposed
With what you have just learned.
Words made him smile, bona fide.
One darker skinned than me
Pointing at tourists three,
The affection he framed
To his friends he exclaimed,
“That’s what I want! It’s love.
That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout!
That’s what I want some of,
Real affection, no doubt!”
As the two events vied,
His head his heart did guide.
Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore
Musings of a Kunderian Monster 