"The Name Game," said Paris watching me gobble down a chicken parm
grinder. "Sounds interesting." I bounced the idea around between bites of the
grinder and swallows of soda.
"My name isn't on this list is it? I can't imagine there are too many women
named Paris out there." She crossed her legs under the table. I could hear the
sleek black skirt enjoying its duty covering her toned thighs.
"No, no, no that's not how it works." I swallowing a little fizz.
"I have to find a six women who's first name begins with a letter of the alphabet
that I haven't been with yet."
Her phone rang. Without looking at the caller I.D. she said, "I'm eating, you
asshole. I'll call you back when I'm done!"
"Who was that?" I asked attempting to fish my orange lollipop out of the
soda bottle.
"Who cares. They'll call back. They always do."
"You fucking kill me."
"So what letters are left?" Her blue eyes sparkled as they caught a slight
ray of sunshine.
"Z, x, y, u, f, and ... shit. I can't remember the last one. But I'm done. I
didn't know how impossible this was going to be until I really thought about it. I may
as well declare another year of celibacy and call it a day."
I always declared celibacy if there was no interest/intimacy/action. With the
"tank" tops and various other slim pickin's celibacy was becoming the norm.
"Keep your panties on. Zoe, Xena, Yolanda, Ursula and Fran. That's it. You
should be all set."
"And I know ooooh soooo many people with these names."
"Don't be an asshole."
"I haven't even started this quest yet and I'm starting to hate it."
"I like it. I wonder how I would do if I went through my list." She
stared off into the afternoon and her eyes melted with the sunny blue sky.
Paris had a list but she was very quiet about it. She had a quality that all of my
females friends had, she was quick. She was always on her toes. She realized at a young
age that you got more done on your toes than on your back.
"I didn't even know where to start looking for some of these names so I bought
a baby names book."
"You are so pathetic." She said laughing out loud. "I'll tell you
were to start. Lose ten pounds."
"What the f.."
"Maybe twenty. Lose twenty. It's all in your face. You look good but I've seen you look
better. I'm just telling you how it is. We're getting older and it's harder to keep in
shape. Look at me though I don't have to work really hard for this now one day I
will." I looked. I didn't hear her black skirt complaining about her waistline.
Her sleeveless blue blouse didn't have much to say either.
"I want you to play the name game not the shame game. The name game," she
said again finishing her water. "I like it."
That Beautiful Black Man
Friday, January 31, 2014
Thursday, January 30, 2014
38 - Goals
"There has to be something more to it than this," I said standing
on Stotler's back porch. "I need some new goals."
"Maybe that's something telling you to settle down," he said
taking a swig of his beer.
"Who are you now, Dr. Phil?" The machines hissed and sputtered.
Things had just been slow lately. I hadn't hooked up in a while
and I really didn't have any interest in anyone new.
I still was chasing in Terry but she had found someone who had sparked
her interest. Paris was never really an option there is so much there
but there is also so much missing that would make the relationship
work. She's like a cross between Traci Lords and a young hot Martha Stewart.
I was just so tired of the bar scene. The last time I even felt
the "urge to merge" was at the wedding I attended in Maine. She was
married and I had a seven hour drive home and no money for a hotel
room.
I let the smoke roll out of my mouth and stared up at the stars.
"You must be on crack. I mean that this whole hooking up this has gotten
old. I need to find a new way to approach it."
"Maybe he's right," chimed in his younger brother. It could be
time for you to settle down. Look at me I've been with the same girl
for almost two years and I'm still happy."
"Candy ass." I said taking a deep drag of the American Spirit
red. "Ignorance is bliss, kid. Don't take this the wrong way but the
reason I'm not married or in a long term relationship is because I'm
not going to make some poor woman put up with the torture of being with my
ignorant ass. Besides I keep telling you should experiment more."
"Yeah but if he's happy why crush it for him," said Stotler
swatting at a moth.
"How many girls have you been with?" I said pointing at the
younger Stotler.
"Dude," said the older Stotler almost laughing, "this is my
younger brother!"
"No listen to me. I'm not saying that you have to bang every girl you can.
Not to say I haven't tried. What I am saying by being with more than one person
... intimately ... you get a chance to find out what you like and don't like in
a relationship. By being with more than say three or four people," I said
blowing smoke toward the younger Stotler, "you get to recognize things you don't
like sooner. To me dating is like practice for marriage. The more practice I
get the better I'll be at the real thing!"
"Here we go," said the older Stotler.
"I can give you the name and birthday of almost all of the women
I've slept with and what I do and don't like about them."
"Almost all?"
"There's a list." Said the older Stotler opening a second beer.
The moth was still flying between him and the light.
"How big of a list?"
"He won't say." said Stotler.
"It's not as bad as everyone thinks." I said trying to find
something interesting to look at on the porch.
"How big?"
"I'm missing five letters of the alphabet."
"Dude," he said sounding like his older brother, "You've slept with
twenty-one people?!?"
"There've been a few repeats." I said under my breath. "That's not the
point. I even admitted that it's getting old."
"So why don't you try to complete the alphabet and the try setting down?"
The three of us just looked at each other. I had found my new goal.
"I'll call it the name game." I said flicking my cigarette into the
darkness.
That Beautiful Black Man
on Stotler's back porch. "I need some new goals."
"Maybe that's something telling you to settle down," he said
taking a swig of his beer.
"Who are you now, Dr. Phil?" The machines hissed and sputtered.
Things had just been slow lately. I hadn't hooked up in a while
and I really didn't have any interest in anyone new.
I still was chasing in Terry but she had found someone who had sparked
her interest. Paris was never really an option there is so much there
but there is also so much missing that would make the relationship
work. She's like a cross between Traci Lords and a young hot Martha Stewart.
I was just so tired of the bar scene. The last time I even felt
the "urge to merge" was at the wedding I attended in Maine. She was
married and I had a seven hour drive home and no money for a hotel
room.
I let the smoke roll out of my mouth and stared up at the stars.
"You must be on crack. I mean that this whole hooking up this has gotten
old. I need to find a new way to approach it."
"Maybe he's right," chimed in his younger brother. It could be
time for you to settle down. Look at me I've been with the same girl
for almost two years and I'm still happy."
"Candy ass." I said taking a deep drag of the American Spirit
red. "Ignorance is bliss, kid. Don't take this the wrong way but the
reason I'm not married or in a long term relationship is because I'm
not going to make some poor woman put up with the torture of being with my
ignorant ass. Besides I keep telling you should experiment more."
"Yeah but if he's happy why crush it for him," said Stotler
swatting at a moth.
"How many girls have you been with?" I said pointing at the
younger Stotler.
"Dude," said the older Stotler almost laughing, "this is my
younger brother!"
"No listen to me. I'm not saying that you have to bang every girl you can.
Not to say I haven't tried. What I am saying by being with more than one person
... intimately ... you get a chance to find out what you like and don't like in
a relationship. By being with more than say three or four people," I said
blowing smoke toward the younger Stotler, "you get to recognize things you don't
like sooner. To me dating is like practice for marriage. The more practice I
get the better I'll be at the real thing!"
"Here we go," said the older Stotler.
"I can give you the name and birthday of almost all of the women
I've slept with and what I do and don't like about them."
"Almost all?"
"There's a list." Said the older Stotler opening a second beer.
The moth was still flying between him and the light.
"How big of a list?"
"He won't say." said Stotler.
"It's not as bad as everyone thinks." I said trying to find
something interesting to look at on the porch.
"How big?"
"I'm missing five letters of the alphabet."
"Dude," he said sounding like his older brother, "You've slept with
twenty-one people?!?"
"There've been a few repeats." I said under my breath. "That's not the
point. I even admitted that it's getting old."
"So why don't you try to complete the alphabet and the try setting down?"
The three of us just looked at each other. I had found my new goal.
"I'll call it the name game." I said flicking my cigarette into the
darkness.
That Beautiful Black Man
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
37 - Just a Thought
"Just a thought," I said slowly drinking my pineapple juice.
"Oh Christ," sighed Stotler. Friday nights were becoming a bit slower for us. We were now the older guys out at the bar and it seemed like the selection of younger women just wasn't what it was. For the most part we saw these pudgy little twenty-one year olds in tank tops. To me the term "tank" top had taken on new meaning.
He's still married and I hunt like a married guy so there wasn't really anything interesting for us to do except talk.
"I think I'm going to have a closed funeral."
"You always bring up the weirdest sh*t at the weirdest times."
"Do you see anything in here worth talking to, married guy?"
He looked around and then looked back at his beer.
"Why are you going to have a closed funeral?" He said rolling his eyes.
"Let me rephrase that. It will be more of an invite only type of thing. The last few funerals that I've gone to no one really knows anyone else and everyone crawls out of the woodwork just to say good-bye. I've said it before, if you can't bring yourself to call, write, or shoot an e-mail while I'm alive why the fuck should you come to my funeral?"
"What about the people who stop talking to you so they don't have to go."
"I'm far too interesting not to talk to for too long," I said watching some geek attempting to buy "tank" top a drink.
"Yeah but what about the people who actually get the invite?"
"I was more into the thought that someone would show up at the door and be turned away because their name wasn't on the list. Can you imagine getting denied at a funeral like it was a club in Manhattan?"
"You're a whack job. You would turn away those people who got invites?"
"No, no, no. The people with the invites would get in no problem. I'm just thinking about the stragglers."
"The stragglers?" he asked flagging the waitress.
"You know the people who don't write or call but show up and cry like teething babies. If you can't take time for me while I'm here then don't come visit me when I'm dead."
He looked at the girl in the pink "tank" top and shook his head.
"The treadmill is your friend. Don't be afraid of it." I said just loud enough for him to hear.
"Dude you kill me."
"Anyway the only thing that pisses me off is that I won't be there to see the faces of the people who get turned away."
"You already have this list don't you."
"Treadmill," I coughed as the "tank" top walked by again. "You won't know until I'm dead now will you."
"I did mention you were a whack job, didn't I?"
"Just a thought." I said finishing off my pineapple juice.
That Beautiful Black Man
"Oh Christ," sighed Stotler. Friday nights were becoming a bit slower for us. We were now the older guys out at the bar and it seemed like the selection of younger women just wasn't what it was. For the most part we saw these pudgy little twenty-one year olds in tank tops. To me the term "tank" top had taken on new meaning.
He's still married and I hunt like a married guy so there wasn't really anything interesting for us to do except talk.
"I think I'm going to have a closed funeral."
"You always bring up the weirdest sh*t at the weirdest times."
"Do you see anything in here worth talking to, married guy?"
He looked around and then looked back at his beer.
"Why are you going to have a closed funeral?" He said rolling his eyes.
"Let me rephrase that. It will be more of an invite only type of thing. The last few funerals that I've gone to no one really knows anyone else and everyone crawls out of the woodwork just to say good-bye. I've said it before, if you can't bring yourself to call, write, or shoot an e-mail while I'm alive why the fuck should you come to my funeral?"
"What about the people who stop talking to you so they don't have to go."
"I'm far too interesting not to talk to for too long," I said watching some geek attempting to buy "tank" top a drink.
"Yeah but what about the people who actually get the invite?"
"I was more into the thought that someone would show up at the door and be turned away because their name wasn't on the list. Can you imagine getting denied at a funeral like it was a club in Manhattan?"
"You're a whack job. You would turn away those people who got invites?"
"No, no, no. The people with the invites would get in no problem. I'm just thinking about the stragglers."
"The stragglers?" he asked flagging the waitress.
"You know the people who don't write or call but show up and cry like teething babies. If you can't take time for me while I'm here then don't come visit me when I'm dead."
He looked at the girl in the pink "tank" top and shook his head.
"The treadmill is your friend. Don't be afraid of it." I said just loud enough for him to hear.
"Dude you kill me."
"Anyway the only thing that pisses me off is that I won't be there to see the faces of the people who get turned away."
"You already have this list don't you."
"Treadmill," I coughed as the "tank" top walked by again. "You won't know until I'm dead now will you."
"I did mention you were a whack job, didn't I?"
"Just a thought." I said finishing off my pineapple juice.
That Beautiful Black Man
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
36 - A Calmer Peace
She just laughed. I liked her laugh. It was loud and uncaring like her.
If there was really a problem you would never know it. It was that way because
that was just the way she was and because in her words "It was none of your
goddamn business anyway!"
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to laugh but are you serious?!?" asked
Paris wiping away tears from her eyes.
I just shook my head yes and let the smoke trail into the late summer
afternoon. This one of the nice days we had had in a while so I decided to
visit Paris's couch.
"Anger management classes?!? Weren't you the one who said that he
wanted to keep the edge? Didn't you say that it would take away from your
creative spark if you veered off of your 'path'?"
"I was talking about Prozac and Zyban and all that medication shit.
This is different. I was thinking about seeing a shrink but they are far more
expensive."
She suddenly sat a little straighter. Her face changed from unbridled
amusement to almost caring concern.
"What's going on with you? I thought the writing was helping."
"It is but have you ever just been angry and not been able to figure
out why?" She looked off in memory. "I mean part of it is the job
but I'm working on that. I think a lot of it is just me. My thought was to
check out these classes and see where I get. If that fails look into
rent-a-friend."
"Rent-a-friend?"
"Yeah. To me going to see a shrink is like sitting with a buddy,
telling him your problems, and then loaning him ninety bucks you know you'll
never see again."
She just shook her head and smiled. "This is just far too depressing.
Let's pack a bowl." She said walking into the kitchen.
"I can't. It'll put me right to sleep and we both know I can't get
caught here sleeping."
"I don't know why I'm saying this but maybe you need some
direction."
"Duh!!"
"No, you asshole, with your little stories. They're entertaining but
maybe if there was a long term goal, an on going series you'd have something to
look forward to."
"This isn't going to turn into to another pitch to write a book is
it?"
"No. I'm just saying if you begin with a certain end in mind maybe
you'll reach a calmer peace. Now I'm going to pack this. Do you want
some?"
"Naw," I said. "I'm gonna go to class and then work on this
'calmer peace' thing."
I crushed my cigarette in the ashtray and let the last bit of smoke roll
off into memory.
That Beautiful Black Man
If there was really a problem you would never know it. It was that way because
that was just the way she was and because in her words "It was none of your
goddamn business anyway!"
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to laugh but are you serious?!?" asked
Paris wiping away tears from her eyes.
I just shook my head yes and let the smoke trail into the late summer
afternoon. This one of the nice days we had had in a while so I decided to
visit Paris's couch.
"Anger management classes?!? Weren't you the one who said that he
wanted to keep the edge? Didn't you say that it would take away from your
creative spark if you veered off of your 'path'?"
"I was talking about Prozac and Zyban and all that medication shit.
This is different. I was thinking about seeing a shrink but they are far more
expensive."
She suddenly sat a little straighter. Her face changed from unbridled
amusement to almost caring concern.
"What's going on with you? I thought the writing was helping."
"It is but have you ever just been angry and not been able to figure
out why?" She looked off in memory. "I mean part of it is the job
but I'm working on that. I think a lot of it is just me. My thought was to
check out these classes and see where I get. If that fails look into
rent-a-friend."
"Rent-a-friend?"
"Yeah. To me going to see a shrink is like sitting with a buddy,
telling him your problems, and then loaning him ninety bucks you know you'll
never see again."
She just shook her head and smiled. "This is just far too depressing.
Let's pack a bowl." She said walking into the kitchen.
"I can't. It'll put me right to sleep and we both know I can't get
caught here sleeping."
"I don't know why I'm saying this but maybe you need some
direction."
"Duh!!"
"No, you asshole, with your little stories. They're entertaining but
maybe if there was a long term goal, an on going series you'd have something to
look forward to."
"This isn't going to turn into to another pitch to write a book is
it?"
"No. I'm just saying if you begin with a certain end in mind maybe
you'll reach a calmer peace. Now I'm going to pack this. Do you want
some?"
"Naw," I said. "I'm gonna go to class and then work on this
'calmer peace' thing."
I crushed my cigarette in the ashtray and let the last bit of smoke roll
off into memory.
That Beautiful Black Man
Monday, January 27, 2014
35 - The Apartment
"I just can't get over your apartment," I said after climbing the stairs
to Terry's place. "It's beautiful and all but I just have this weird feeling that
if I were to live here there would be daily strikes of lightening."
You could see the church from her kitchen window. She went back to her huge wrap
around couch. I always seemed to stop by on a Tuesday night when she was watching her
favorite shows.
I loved Terry's apartment. These were perhaps my five favorite rooms in the state
of CT. It was tastefully furnished. There was no unnecessary clutter unlike my place.
I am the typical single male/bear with furniture. In some rooms of my house there
are actually trails to get places. I have to leave bread crumbs to get back to my
office.
The room I liked most was the bedroom. It was always hot, in the literal sense. I
don't think the room ever went below 85ยบ. Heaven. The machines were quiet here.
I served one purpose for Terry; the unending back massage. I was known to stop up
and massage her back and brush her hair for hours while she watched her soaps, smoked,
ate wings, etc.
"I fell asleep." She said stretching.
"You look stressed," I said taking a seat behind her. She looked
beautiful.
"Just another shitty day at work."
"Let me see what I can do about that." I said working on her shoulders.
Terry was my experiment in intimacy. She was one of the few people I really didn't mind
spending time with. I had been brave enough to stay over once and I think my snoring
earned me a permanent place on the couch.
I like climbing her stairs. Hanging out with her makes me want to be a better man. Maybe that's why I just can't get over that apartment.
That Beautiful Black Man
to Terry's place. "It's beautiful and all but I just have this weird feeling that
if I were to live here there would be daily strikes of lightening."
You could see the church from her kitchen window. She went back to her huge wrap
around couch. I always seemed to stop by on a Tuesday night when she was watching her
favorite shows.
I loved Terry's apartment. These were perhaps my five favorite rooms in the state
of CT. It was tastefully furnished. There was no unnecessary clutter unlike my place.
I am the typical single male/bear with furniture. In some rooms of my house there
are actually trails to get places. I have to leave bread crumbs to get back to my
office.
The room I liked most was the bedroom. It was always hot, in the literal sense. I
don't think the room ever went below 85ยบ. Heaven. The machines were quiet here.
I served one purpose for Terry; the unending back massage. I was known to stop up
and massage her back and brush her hair for hours while she watched her soaps, smoked,
ate wings, etc.
"I fell asleep." She said stretching.
"You look stressed," I said taking a seat behind her. She looked
beautiful.
"Just another shitty day at work."
"Let me see what I can do about that." I said working on her shoulders.
Terry was my experiment in intimacy. She was one of the few people I really didn't mind
spending time with. I had been brave enough to stay over once and I think my snoring
earned me a permanent place on the couch.
I like climbing her stairs. Hanging out with her makes me want to be a better man. Maybe that's why I just can't get over that apartment.
That Beautiful Black Man
Friday, January 24, 2014
34 - Hog-Tied
"Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, no siree!" Said Marrianne over the scratchy cell phone. "That's just not going to happen." I could see her shaking her long brunette curls back and forth. I pictured her eyes closed and her lips pursed. "What am I going to do with you?!?"
"Wait, wait. What you're saying is that you don't trust me?" I asked trying to look innocent even though she was almost two hundred miles away.
"Let me get this straight. You want to go out in the city, drink Jagermeister all night, come back to my apartment, and 'just sleep' in my bed?"
"Yeah. That's it. That's the plan." I could feel the slick smile cut across my face before I finished the first sentence.
"Do I sound like I'm from planet 'College Girl'? Don't even try that slick bullshit with me mister. I'm not one of your little chicks on the side." I could just picture her sitting on her bed in her blue tie-dyed T-shirt and gray sweat shorts.
I knew her ice blues were cutting across the room looking for something to throw at me. She is statuesque. A beautiful woman with looks that could be appreciated now or in the Victorian Age.
"The only one who sleeps in my bed with me is me."
"Well see now were on the same page. I agree. The only person who should sleep in your bed with you is me. You see I'm all about me, too." Even though I couldn't see it I could feel the ice in her gaze freezing the phone in my hands.
"The only way you will sleep in my bed with me, mister, is hog-tied, duck taped, and blindfolded."
"This is supposed to be a deterrent?!?"
"Here's how it goes. You come up to visit, we walk around the city, eat dinner, have a few drinks, catch up, and then you sleep on the couch with the cat."
I loved Marrianne. She was one of the women I know who could probably kick my ass sideways and then slap me back into shape. There was something striking yet very subtle about her. Men loved her but never knew they couldn't handle her free spirit until it was too late and she was bored to tears with them.
It had been almost two years since I'd seen her, but I felt like we just talked yesterday.
"Sounds like a plan." I said pretending to be disappointed.
"But could you explain how that hog-tying thing works?"
"Ahhhhh," she said in disgust. "What am I going to do with you?"
That Beautiful Black Man
"Wait, wait. What you're saying is that you don't trust me?" I asked trying to look innocent even though she was almost two hundred miles away.
"Let me get this straight. You want to go out in the city, drink Jagermeister all night, come back to my apartment, and 'just sleep' in my bed?"
"Yeah. That's it. That's the plan." I could feel the slick smile cut across my face before I finished the first sentence.
"Do I sound like I'm from planet 'College Girl'? Don't even try that slick bullshit with me mister. I'm not one of your little chicks on the side." I could just picture her sitting on her bed in her blue tie-dyed T-shirt and gray sweat shorts.
I knew her ice blues were cutting across the room looking for something to throw at me. She is statuesque. A beautiful woman with looks that could be appreciated now or in the Victorian Age.
"The only one who sleeps in my bed with me is me."
"Well see now were on the same page. I agree. The only person who should sleep in your bed with you is me. You see I'm all about me, too." Even though I couldn't see it I could feel the ice in her gaze freezing the phone in my hands.
"The only way you will sleep in my bed with me, mister, is hog-tied, duck taped, and blindfolded."
"This is supposed to be a deterrent?!?"
"Here's how it goes. You come up to visit, we walk around the city, eat dinner, have a few drinks, catch up, and then you sleep on the couch with the cat."
I loved Marrianne. She was one of the women I know who could probably kick my ass sideways and then slap me back into shape. There was something striking yet very subtle about her. Men loved her but never knew they couldn't handle her free spirit until it was too late and she was bored to tears with them.
It had been almost two years since I'd seen her, but I felt like we just talked yesterday.
"Sounds like a plan." I said pretending to be disappointed.
"But could you explain how that hog-tying thing works?"
"Ahhhhh," she said in disgust. "What am I going to do with you?"
That Beautiful Black Man
Thursday, January 23, 2014
33 - Secrets
"I can't believe it." I said looking wildly around the yard. "Well you kind of had to expect it." I shook an American Spirit Red free from its resting place and slowly took a drag. The drag was as deep as the secret he had just shared with me.
"You know I have to write about this, right?"
"Fuck that! No way! I am going to keep this under wraps as long as I can!" He shook his head forcefully from side to side. "This does not go on that short story/blog or whatever-the-fuck you call it."
"Are you kidding me?!? This is great shit! It'll be like watching someone rebuild from the ashes. Do you know how many people are in the exact same boat you're in? Worst case scenario we catch a little flak. Best case we help someone out who is in the same boat."
"No." he said. His statement was simple and direct. "This is something I have to handle. Putting it out there will just make it worse."
"How?!? I'll change your name! Switch cities, make you older or younger ... this could work!" I felt like a scum bag trying to get his girlfriend to take her clothes off for his buddies but at the same time I knew this would make a good story.
"It's not like you killed somebody, this is just everyday stuff. You fucked up. We all do."
I wondered how Stotler would handle this. I'm not really good at being the moral barometer. As long as it feels good, no one gets hurt, and it's not too illegal, I'm all for it.
I took another deep drag and watched the smoke dance in the wind as I exhaled. He just stood there with his head hung low and his hands on his hips. He was defeated and there was nothing he could do about it. As the smoke disappeared I thought I saw the fire in his eyes dim. I just couldn't believe it.
That Beautiful Black Man
"You know I have to write about this, right?"
"Fuck that! No way! I am going to keep this under wraps as long as I can!" He shook his head forcefully from side to side. "This does not go on that short story/blog or whatever-the-fuck you call it."
"Are you kidding me?!? This is great shit! It'll be like watching someone rebuild from the ashes. Do you know how many people are in the exact same boat you're in? Worst case scenario we catch a little flak. Best case we help someone out who is in the same boat."
"No." he said. His statement was simple and direct. "This is something I have to handle. Putting it out there will just make it worse."
"How?!? I'll change your name! Switch cities, make you older or younger ... this could work!" I felt like a scum bag trying to get his girlfriend to take her clothes off for his buddies but at the same time I knew this would make a good story.
"It's not like you killed somebody, this is just everyday stuff. You fucked up. We all do."
I wondered how Stotler would handle this. I'm not really good at being the moral barometer. As long as it feels good, no one gets hurt, and it's not too illegal, I'm all for it.
I took another deep drag and watched the smoke dance in the wind as I exhaled. He just stood there with his head hung low and his hands on his hips. He was defeated and there was nothing he could do about it. As the smoke disappeared I thought I saw the fire in his eyes dim. I just couldn't believe it.
That Beautiful Black Man
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