Saturday, February 05, 2005

One Love
Raggae Rasta man, ears full of Jamaican heat
headphones always on, music melting in
wearing Chaco’s,
tie dye pants, pretty cowry shells.
Playing drums in the dark, beat,
guessing songs, taking too long
follow the notes like soldier ants
a long song.
Tie dye pants, white and blue,
Reggae rastapherian dancing drumming, true.
Hand shake, hand shift, hand snap
holding hands.
Rasta man, Rasta hair, beaded, dreaded, faded.
Walk her home, remind her here how
a swinging beat swallows, heals, hurts, now.
New friends and feelings, shy smiling,
softly up, smoking down, dancing all around.
Tickle her hand, hold her hand, holding helping hand
whistle away into the wasted day
crinkle, fickle, stop
Not here forever, no never
she can’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t stay, so she stays away,
inverse Rasta girl, ivory skin, emerald eyes,
smile, cry, corrupt music drums, dancing feet
turn around, around, around about.
Forget her Rasta reggae man,
you will never meet again.

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