I miss my wife
As if I ever had one
I miss ya' before I met ya'
Like reverse Alzheimer’s
Triggering memories that don't exist
Don’t resist her fingertips
Read hieroglyphs in brail
Just goose bumps curving beneath her fingernails
Her eyes window-shop in mine
Browsing spheres of almond mist
Turning her hazel face colorful and blush
Her palms touch, and grasp my shoulder blade
Fingernails digging
Ron Isley singing
"I wanna be living
For the love of you"
The love of you
Is momentum rhythmic drums
African rum
Distilled through elephant tusks
Lined with gold in the Sahara sun
Aged in bottles shaped from diamond
She wants a man who can make her feel beautiful
Handle his business on the financial
And do his emotional duty too
. . . I’ll be that
I put her on a pedestal and she reciprocates
And, I’m always tryin' to love out of my league
Like Jackie Robinson
playin' where I ain't got no business playin'
But I’m sayin'
Big boys need love too
You ain't gotta be 300 pounds to break me down
Just gotta know what you're doin'
And she's knowin' what she's doin'
And I only want to know my wife this way
From delivery rooms to graduation days
To wet rainy windy clasp her purse throw my coat over a puddle for her days
To dry cold cuddle by the fireplace drinkin' hot chocolate with French vanilla cream days
Cats say," that's some weak stuff jay"
Well my woman's soft too
Hate on that
Front on the thought of soul mates
And spending quality time til' your old and gray
You’ll be seventy-five pimpin'
With no play left in ya'
While were twilight like nova light beyond the Milky Way
It takes light-years for our light to travel here
That’s why you can't see us son
And I can't see em' commin' down my eyes
While I make these spoken words cry
Spoken words like that big lipped Brooklyn guy
Touching her to the top of her highlight hair
Like touching firmament blue expanding until the earth
We’re horizon
Making love orange, blue to purple
Making love to reign until climax precipitates down
And we exhale fog . . .LORD. . .
Sweet kisses me like a mothers kiss
My children's mother's kiss
She wipes the Sunday morning dew from my brow
It’s light out
It’s dawn, and the right side of my bed is cold
And I miss my wife . . .
As if I ever had one