My Lars Von Trier Movie

In the city of my familiar girls wore thin from the sun in winter they dried as grape

Orange leaves that fell they wandered through wearing boots made famous

Within the pages of Seventeen I ascended upon teen queens brunette and blonde

With names like Brooke and Ashley dressed in tight jeans contemplating stardom

Winter came the years by we hovered around television sitcoms and soap operas

That wonderland I relived throughout books by Agatha Christie and S.E. Hinton

We were the Hardy Boys brown and scholarly courting knives and catholic girls

Kiss posters on our walls listening to urban radio we were rock stars and deejays

Stairwells of public housing we brought girls to their knees stroked their hair

An army of us stealing our way into bodegas running off not ever paying a cent

At the street corners we stood throwing snow balls yelling insults at each other

My Septembers when I read Nancy Drew in a park in fear of neighborhood thugs

Dream world where black girls had been forgotten in the yesteryears of home

I was emblazoned on fields of grass where girls stood to cheer holding pompoms

First exclamations of love, proclamations of uncertainty what was a boy

Unnamed to many as lover just a kid with perks a talent afoot style to relish

Portrait of the artist as a young man caught making pencil drawings of centerfolds

Shaming of youth where white girls were untouchables like my mother’s Vasoline

Tomorrows babies Kath Kathing like Kathy, dangerous girl with cobra tattoo

Purple lipstick red rouge black blackness what do you do with a black poet thief

Rimbaud redux an African Jean Michel painted my seasons in hell colors of sex

Sexing warm girls watching the curiousness of their eyes what they saw in me

A devil sheep marching them to church altar the process of processing authority

My guard my god allowed me this power to mold mesh the skin in Jewish faith

That a black man touching the flesh of Jewish girls, Jewish sex builds a mind state

Who am I? Svengali, third lover, I waive wand. Pen is sword I enlist by command

I am not the Black Marquis de Sade or the sadist who raped the minds and bones

Gave of my heart I tutored not torture tutelage, Flower King spreading rose petals

Black Cocteau in honor of theater girls who fell in love with words I had carved

Put to test presented for them to perform portray, come from under to fore

Black man black coitus fang of foo round the way girls never bothered to inspect

Concoct a concoction if you please, potion to possess perhaps to undress

Time when Christina Rossettis on Horatio Street contemplated suicide

How I reeled them in thinking of this kingdom of corrupted girls bargain shopping

I mouthed nipples pink, flat bottoms strands of hair that fell freckles on chest

I cursed Sylvia Plaths into memory of Kenyan girl, ghetto girls waxing poetic