cocoa bread sweet, quick tongued jamerican boy with pretty brown skin and soft, black locs...
you met us through a mutual friend, and soon you were hanging out in our dorm rooms and buying us liquor before we could get it ourselves. we invaded your off campus apartment, giggling and tipsy from cheap vodka and hours of dancing.
you asked me to twist your hair when you couldn't get home to your sister. when i said i didn't know how, you told me the skill was in my blood. you leaned back between my knees as i dipped my fingers into the sticky beeswax and spread it over your new growth.
you were right after all...
we always flirted, cuddled and played, making everyone wonder. it took some time before we actually tried each other out--you had friends and i had friends...
but, one night when i was alone and feeling a little less than innocent, i got you to skip a friend's housewarming to keep me company. the rest was history.
we made a pact to never let our play get in the way of our friendship. and it didn't.
i remember your mary jane and tea in the mornings and that pretty mouth at night. when he broke my heart, you took me in and held me through my tears.
after we were all done with school, you came for a visit...then i never heard from you again. by then, my locs were just past my shoulders, yours nearly to your waist.
years later my mother found the picture of us you took for your photography class: you with much shorter hair, me with much straighter hair. you sitting straight up on the sofa, me reclined against your chest. our arms intertwined, complexion contrast enhanced by the black and white film.
it sits in my living room still.
(SW: if by any chance you read this, please get in touch...i pray you're well & think of you often. hope you got the hell outta boston. i miss you & our friendship.)
(addendum, 2.2011 - found him. *smile*. happily married with 2 cute kids.)
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