Where It First Began

This day had a different aroma in it. Knots in my stomach as I attempt to admit love to a crush, that fly higher than my balloon can reach.

Do I text them even though it’s dream land or do I man up and tell to them to they face?

Spades table, how many books we winning?

A possible two or a Boston, but who I am I joking, this dream got me choking on an illusion.

Merlot in hand, as I dance with chance and the possibility that I won’t get that dance with Ms. Queen.

A curvy young thing, an hour glass, a crush from back in third grade class. Playing it cool with the guys, acting like I’m fly with my FUBU on.

Now I got that Michel Khor’s on, dancing with the thoughts, of lips interlocking at intersections and hips not lying on dance floors.

When I was 15, I didn’t know how to tie a tie, now I’m a professor type guy. Hope I get that chance to go on this dream date Ms. Queen.

We can go downtown; we can go to The Signature Room at 95th or Harold’s 16th on Dixmoor.

Do you want more or less?

I must confess, I ain’t never done this before.

Dinner for two, as I dance with the syllables trying to search for words to speak as you study my eyes to see if my mind is matching up with the words I say.

Almost time to go. Suit all clean and pressed out for this dream date, a real treat.

Cologne on heavy, so when you lean in for a kiss you will compliment my frame and the smell that invades your nostrils and leaves you floating as if you on first class.

But this is first class, I skipped every other class just to be in yours.

This is study hall, we can study each other as long as you like, we don’t even need to eat. We can talk and then repeat as we go on our second and third date.

Then we solidify it and we create a path for two, dancing together solidified on a path of life together.

Two birds of a feather, but I prefer being in the warm embrace of your arms.

Who holds the future?

Listening to PJ Morton’s “First Began” as I try to make this fantasy reality.

Smooth music in my system as my mind tries to rationalize this date dancing in my head.

Now, reality kicks in while in this dream land. Hopping into the ride to get you.

On the way over, no flour leaf clover. But I have mints to wash out my breath’s bad stench.

Sweating purposely, making sure my deodorant doesn’t evaporate despite my nervous mental state.

Getting to your house, stepping out the car to talk to your pops. Letting him know that I’m a responsible man and he has nothing to worry about.

Then…

My heart skips as I saw you take your first step on the stairs. Sun dress snug tight, as it highlighted your curves, like a popup book in reality.

High Heels, defining a status unlike any other and you wore a natural head of curls on your head as your tiara.

How did a Queen decide to go on a dream date with a peasant? This common person, played his cards right when he was on the poker table. Going all in for your hand. Now can I have this dance?

Can you give me this chance?

We will dance the night away.

Then…

One night soon, you will spin and I will stay.

While you complete the single person routine, you will see…

Your dream Knight, your King on one Knee asking you, not for another date.

But asking, “Will you Marry Me?”

Merlot in our glasses, as it becomes our night cap, taking sips while we prepare for a never-ending dance.

Two stepping the night away going to the future from where we “First Began”.