"The Perfect Lipstick."
This is my 4th of July poem.
For real, it was published for the first time
on the 4th of July.
"The Perfect Lipstick," which I try to always have.
OK.
And they don't make the kind I really like.
[INAUDIBLE]
"When the life size replicas of the Niña, the Pinta,
and the Santa Maria precariously sailed into New York Harbor,
they looked like toy ships.
Just think, Columbus in a toy ship,
off to discover the perfect route, the fastest
way to China, the Indies, all that spice.
You never got this far north.
But all the same, the slaughter of whole peoples, buildings
that even God had not thought of in 1492,
and expulsion, discovery, the slave trade all followed.
Out of this horror came new foods, new clothes, new shoes,
a language as mixed as the blood of the people
and as alienating.
But there are times when the connections, no matter how
fragile, hold like the thick sails of those tall ships,
which decorated the harbor July 4th in fog and gentle light.
It is why I appreciate my favorite shade of lipstick,
Sherry Velour.
Sounds like the name of a drag queen from the early seventies.
One of those--"
I-- hey, I lived on the Upper West Side
and there were some serious drag queens.
They were great.
They are tall, too.
OK.
"One of those strapping black men who'd
had enough of playing macho, put their feet in 5 inch heels
and made saints of Dinah Washington, Rita Hayworth,
and a very young Nina Simone.
So, on goes this lipstick, pretty for parties,
fatal for festivals, Sherry Velour and her hot discoveries,
light above the fog, a toy ship, black men in sequined dresses,
and the click of new words in the new world,
were the most dangerous of dreams come true."