there are times I hope I am like
no one else,
but myself.
Soak absorb and summit
prefer to devour the
shades that make me
leave me to it: crawl outside this
lukewarm body wall
and
nibble resuscitated melanin
for the record, my inner being seems
seldom inundated
leave me to it: drift back inside and caress
my own tenderness
with symphonies of honeysuckle,
moonlight, breached discovery
maybe, somersault on the bridge
of my nose
smell what I am made of
feel what I got going on
by Paris Jessie