Literary Art

My Hair won’t take Relaxers

I could penetrate pussy, but would that relax my coarse ways?
I could cruise down your vaginal avenue in a little red corvette but would that make me straight?
I’d still swoon at your sons and husbands when I see Smokey Robinson green eyes at karaoke night
Fourth shot down and I could reform into a lesbian
Come on baby, with those collagen lips and plastic tits
I know you want to reform me (because I’m another Black man packing foot long penis).

but you don’t give a damn about our health
Bribing us with HIV lollipops to turn us straight
Trying to pacify us with suckers labeled: Civil Unions, but they aren’t so civil when we don’t get the same coverage like other committed civilians
In the waiting room between Jim Beam and Captain Morgan as School Daze plays in my left eye and Noah’s ARC in my right
Let’s go out to pastor between 12-2 to live it up
See the slaves in the shade, drinking milk, taking a break as we line dance at Blake’s
And when the cows come home from pastor,
Pastor who has just married Russian mail order brides,
still claiming sanctity in marriage
I won’t drink those cow’s milk
From the nipple to the bottle not satisfied, because happy cows come from a Prop 8 California

Re(form)lax me?

Re(form)lax your care for gays.

Re(form)lax marriage.

Then there maybe health care re(form)laxers.