tanka set

years ago 

i was *in négriyon...

now in my forties

im on a search 

to reclaim childhood

*in négriyon: 'a little Black boy' in Kouri-Vini

in a fig rain 

noticing

the leaden sky

working this 

Labor Day away

old man 

with a turbulent soul...

this beautiful 

Black man 

on a motorcycle 

early 

in my teens 

awkwardness 

was worn by me 

like a 2nd skin

biting edge

of tequila

in this margarita

yellowness of

'wet floor' cones 

in this

rainwind 

swinging lanterns 

again i pace

the parking-lot 

home 

how long do i 

settle back 

into the warmth 

of a dark porch 

smell of rain 

quite pungent...

'pungent'

a word that i 

use often 

prejudiced jury...

eating pastrami 

they wonder

'did he really 

murder his wife'

rainfall 

over the Great Wall 

the greenery 

of China 

seeps into my bones