Some of you heard me tell this story yesterday
over at African-American Center.
MLK, I guess-- is it still called Martin Luther King?
I didn't see that on the building anywhere.
Is it called that?
Oh, OK.
All right.
Writers, it's all they do is read stuff and write stuff,
but they asked me to read a poem yesterday.
Well, during a reception and I pull this one out
from most recent chapbook called Conjugal Visits, a phrase
that has always fascinated me.
And well-- and this particular reference comes from--
some time ago in the 80s, when I was
teaching at University of California,
Santa Cruz something called community studies,
which was interdisciplinary work study thing for undergraduates.
And there was this older student who had four kids
and she'd been married, she was on her third marriage.
And she would always tell me that on a certain day
in the month that she would not be coming to class because it
was conjugal, a visit day at The Q as she termed it.
This is California of course, and she
was talking about San Quentin.
So I finally ask her what it was like and she it
got this big grin on her face and all mellow
and she said, oh, she says.
I think I've got it worked out this time she said.
I just love it, she says.
I go to see him and it's like a honeymoon,
every time I go over there and we
read each other the poems we've been writing, and talk
about books.
We've been reading, and we make love,
and then we walk around the trailer yard, holding hands.
And we have something to eat and we make love some more
and it's just-- it's just marvelous.
And then her face changed and she stiffened and she said--
and then when I get back to Santa Cruz
and I'm trying to do my studies and take care of my kids
and take care of business, he can't mess with me
because he's been locked up in the joint.
[LAUGHTER]
So that became the [AUDIO OUT] I'll make making love,
I'll paint my toenails red.
Reece say he got to change his name from Maurice to Malik.
He think I need to change my mind too.
Conversion, so to speak.
I ain't no Muslim yet, I say.
Besides, I like my name.
Kamisha still sounds good to me.
I'll let you play that game.
I'd rather play with you, he say, than trip back to the 60s.
The 60s.
I'm on his case.
Then I won't do my striptease.
This brother look at me and laugh,
he know I love him bad and worse,
he know exactly how much loving I ain't had.
He grabbed me by my puffed up waist and pulled me to him
close.
He say, I want you in my face or on my face, Miss Toes.
What can I say?
I'd lie for Reece but I'm not quitting school.
Four mouths to feed not counting mine.
Let urban studies rule.
[LAUGHTER]
I met him in the want ads, we fell in love by mail.
I say when people bring this up: wasn't no one up for sale.
All these Black men crammed up in jail, all this IQ on ice
while governments bank presidents,
the mafia don't think twice.
They fly in dope and make real sure
they hands stay nice and clean.
The chump change Reece made on the street--
What's that supposed to mean?
For what it costs the state to keep you locked down,
clothed, and fed, you could be learning Harvard stuff
and brilliant skills, I said.
Reece say, just kiss me one more time, then let's get down,
make love, then let's devour that special meal
I wish they'd serve more of.
They say the third time out a charm and I think they're right.
My first, he was the ace of swords, which
didn't make him no knight.
He gave me Zeus and Brittany.
My second left me twins.
This third one ain't about no luck.
We're honeymooners, friends.
I go see Maurice once a month, while moms looks after things.
We be so glad to touch again, I dance, he grins, he sings.
When I get back home to my kids, schoolwork, the coffee shop,
ain't no way Reece can mess with me.
They got his ass locked up, which--
[LAUGHTER]
All strangeness.
Very odd.