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"kippies" poems
The day you meet a woman you   love you will see why you made me laugh for no reason, why I drove in the rain for days to dry the palms of your hands with my sweat, why the blackness of your skin lit my eyes which were a mirror to your chocolate sculpture carved by taxi rank crowds scampering around you at rush hour - just before the rain - framing you into a portrait of dignity… You'll see why drums  beat in my chest and shook me like daisies whenever your soul slid towards me to sip ... You'll see why blemishes of my tattooed hands pricked creases on your  forehead and cupped my tears below your greying chin, why death had stopped stalking me after I had jazzed with you under our  passion-splashed  umbrella and tasted the rain under our  toes - on cobbled streets at Kippies on Mirriam Makeba Street… The day your Black Magic Woman stumbles through your Mute. Deaf. Door... you'll grasp why you were once  my sugar chocolate  tree in a faded world where  hearts were not  papers. © Dimakatso  A.  Sedite 2017
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Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 7:33 AM UTC
Your Black Magic Woman