I can hear him, Hear him long 'fore I sees him. Can hear him stompin Stompin 'cross the ceilin Of the earth like he mad at the world. Mad at us for just bein. Rain Man stomp so hard he send the wind runnin runnin hard runnin mad kickin up dust an' pickin up leaves Screamin at the top of her lungs Pull down ya garments and shut up yo hatches. Call in yo chillun's 'cause Lawd I declare The Rain Man comin'
I can see him now sees him off in the distance. Talltoweringhulk of man. Skin real dark. But not that ******-baby kinda dark what look like somethin dead been drug through the mudndipped in tar with fat uncooked sausages for lips like they got in the picture shows an shoppin books. Nah this that pretty kinda dark Night sky kinda dark dark so deep ya get lost in it and find God there too. Yeah, he got that pretty dark. But he got them eyes, them pretty white eyes sparkle so hard like God plucked the North star and the Pointer star right out the sky and stuckem in his face. His hair, thick black coils of hair, grow like kudzu stretch down his back and move in the wind like snakes with minds of they own. He turns his head backnforth sendin them vines flyin stretchin stretchin to forever till CRACK they snap back, snap back so hard they like to split the air with fury that shook me to my soul.
I can feel him now feel him as he wraps me in his arms, what seem to be made of steel, and pull me into that chest made of mountain stones firm firm like the earth I ain't no longer standin on 'cause he picked me up clear off my feet no connection to the ground but him. I wrap my birdy lil arms round his neck and bury my bony lil fingers in the layers of his hair. I can feel the warmth roll offa him in waves waves like the ones cornfields make when they kissed by wind, or maybe even waves like them from the sea as they reach out for land to save them from drownin just 'fore they fall back into the sea, I just know that he feel good.
I can smell him, smell every bit of him as I bury my head deeper into his neck. He smell warm like the earth, like red clay smell after he and sun done made out all day, warm like a man smell after he done spent all day hunch backed starin at the earth tryna trick her to give'm just a lil somethin to eat. Even his clothes, holey rags they are, smell like smoke but not that cold angry smoke what come from the factory, not that black stuff what puff itself up to block out the sun like he mad at her for shinin so pretty. Nah, his smoke smell like that soft gray smoke that drifts lazy-like from daddy's shed after he done bled a pig for us to eat during winter. His smokeyness smell like earth.
I can taste him taste every memory of him as I kiss blindly startin at his neck workin my way up tryna find his mouth. Every inch of his face taste sweet, like the caramel candies them old ladies at church carry round in they bags, made even sweeter by the salty tang of each bead of sweat as it tumbles down his face and drips on my blouse stainin the pretty lil flowers. All I know is he taste good.