Friday, April 29, 2016

Day 28 - Contacts

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Whatshername stopped me
before breaking her plane
after having second thoughts.
But by then,
the credits were rolling
on the Dirty Dancing DVD
neither of us watched through
our indulgences;
we’d already done so much,
licked salt from skin,
crossed too many bridges and taboos
to undo the quest for flesh.
She claimed to be
“Not in her right mind”
bewitched by my long dreadlocks
and uncanny light brown eyes.
I smiled,
masking my disappointment.
Knowing she was right, but
still wanting to know her better.
I relented.

Whatshername begged me
to please her,
and so I dove in,
indulging her every desire
as if the sun would never
rise on our deeds.
She insisted on maintaining
eye-contact with my
hazel almonds as I
plucked her strings
at perfect pitch,
in synch with Swayze
and Baby having
the time of their lives.

Whatshername impatiently sighed,
placing my hand on her thigh,
wondering why
I ignored all of her signals.
After all,
she had seen Dirty Dancing
countless times and
could watch it at any time.
This time,
I took her queue and
leaned deeply into her.

As dad tried
putting Baby in the corner,
Whatshername asked
if my eyes were naturally
I replied with a lie.
She asked if I was happily married.
I replied with the sad truth.
She sighed, smiled,
and told me too bad,
but at least I had pretty eyes.

Whatshername made up her couch
for me to sleep.
I thanked her for letting me crash
and disrupting her Friday,
her smile told me she
didn’t mind too much.
I was planning on being a church-mouse,
but she refused to go to bed,
opting to screen Dirty Dancing
for me for some reason.
I politely lied,
faking interest in the film.
It’s the least I could do
for such a gracious host.

Driving to her place,
she didn’t catch my name last time,
so I tossed it to her again,
we exchanged handshakes.
She grazed my thigh,
but I let it slide,
not wanting to read too much into it.
Whatshername complimented my
pretty eyes
and long dreads.
I smiled, blushed,
and shrugged a thank-you at her.

Dropping me off at my place,
Whatshername waited for me to enter.
I patted myself down at my door
walking back to her car sheepishly.
It seemed that I locked myself out,
and the wife was spending the night
up north with her girlfriend
who hated me and was convinced
I was an opportunistic cheater.
(Can you imagine?)
Whatshername stared into the
pretty lies irritating my vision
and offered up her couch.
Having no other recourse, I accepted.

The nightclub was pretty dead,
so she came over and introduced herself.
I immediately forgot her name was Debra
while giving her mine.
I don’t think Debra caught my name either,
as Whatshername kept raving about how
I had the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen
in a black man. I smiled and thanked her
as her hand grazed my chest,
playfully raking me with her fingernails.
I shrugged and let it slide.
She asked where my girl was; I told her
having a girls’ night up north.
After a few hours of dancing,
she beamed at me and offered a ride home,
licking her lips.
It was a long walk,
so I accepted.

While twisting my follicles,
my beautician asked me
about my evening plans
without the spouse.
I told her the truth; go clubbing,
blow off some steam,
harmless flirting,
but I omitted the obvious as if
I wouldn’t respond to
certain opportunities.
Friendly with both me and my wife,
she knew our struggles,
but tried not to pick sides.
But even she eventually
asked about pretty,
unnatural hazel eyes.
I told her the truth;
they were contacts.
The stylist stopped twisting my hair,
stared intensely, square into my lies
and gave me this pointer;
if any woman complimented
and asked about my eyes in the future,
I should thank them
and never tell them the truth.
I agreed to trust her
and stick with the lie.
** *

Written for NaPoWriMo’s Day 28 prompt: Tell a story, but do it backwards. This one was tricky, but kinda fun. 


  1. I am just about to do five loads of laundry and clean the kitchen.This poem has made me feel much better about my boring life:)

  2. Wow! This is really well done!