He Got Boo
Him a day-long star,
a cosmos circled his hips.
Done doubled up
as a short-order cook,
waltzed like a drag queen
yet he all man-child.
Older ladies curled
his hair, made him flex,
flutter slinky brows.
Thought he high-ranking
short changing, slick as sesame oil.
Thought he a cowboy
wrangling songs in a bad bar
until
one sweet thing
burgled his heart,
stomped his jazzy junk,
made him greasy
for her alone,
hitched him up,
wore his glitter in her hair -
and he not say one boo,
not one,
but moaned
‘yea baby.’
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2020
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