Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!

Unknown Presence

How to name what is unnameable.
The long road of history right up till now.
Think about Robert Johnson's deal with the Devil.
Unnameable, I think of you.
I know my demise is coded in your name.

But what does Unnameable know that I don't know?
In retrospect, oh, so that's how it all adds up.
We're in a new car driving along but
if something goes wrong
out here in the middle of nowhere,
no mechanic to deal with the problem.

The deal is that moment when no one knows
who has the ball, not even he, scratched and bruised, carrying it.

So, we keep bumping into one another,
used, our keys rattling.

You leave stage and come back dancing.
And I have no choice.
Watching your high kicks with a longing
that matches your tease.

And Lil at the piano at Bob's.
A big deal for me.
We stayed up all night
listening to her play and
doing so made all mystery leave
at least for those few hours.

But the reality is, I bear the weight.
I listen to your screams coming up.
I no longer deny that
your voice and heartbeat are my own.

People are happiest when they forget.
Everyone forgot you that time in Kansas City
when Half Pint pitched high
and sang way up in a voice not his own.

Not unhappy, now I am inside you
crossing an imaginary stretch
as if you were an unending coastline,
too lovely to look at with the naked eye.
I couldn't have been dealt a better hand.

Written by Clarence Major


Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge