Ways She Moved

Black boys preened and strutted when she walked down the street. Men lusted and spied when their wives were turned occupied with their own inconsequence. They all said the same thing, Her legs go on forever! That’s the long and the slim of it, of them, of nutmeg that wrapped in wet dreams. In solid strokes they’d hitch and jerk. The boys would stall in Jitterbug halls, when with the fast and frenetic slide of saddle shoes and bobby-socks, she came and sweated. Her hair greased into place, unmoving, uncaring when she walked. Her ass switched its way into commentary. That’s how she conquered. That’s how she moved.