What draws me to you so?
The grace of your undulating line?
The rhythm of your dance?
Your blood red countenance
Glistening when wet?
Limbs of trees and dangling vines,
Reach to touch me as I ride you
Enticing, Caressing, Entangling.
Have I surrendered to your seductive whim?
Would you have me, forever?
Transfixed by the thought of you,
Like some school boy
Obsessing over his first love?
Maybe you are not woman at all
Maybe you are the sorceress,
Beguiling, making me stupid,
Until I call it love.
Is it?….Or just some awkward passion?
Lust!…Something sloppy like that!
Did you reach into me with some invisible hand
And with your finger press that part of me
That longs to ride you so, to feel you
As if you are woman?
Yet you are not…are you?
You’re just a road…an African road,
Clay and dust, mud, holes, and rock,
Born on the backs of sweaty black men
Who stripped the earth clean of creation
To reveal the pungent and fertile lines of earth’s sweet organ.
You make men drowsy with your siren’s song
Playing their willful pride
Then you absorb them like they’re nothing
As if they never had an idea why or what it is you really are
Since men think you are just an African road
That leads someone, somewhere, to do something
That you know is of no consequence whatsoever
Mocking those who use you knowing full well you use them
You seduce, manipulate, and cause men to forget themselves
To give into you…
And in so doing, you are what every man wants,
Yet no man has or could have,
You are the African Road.