Odd Black Boy

I wanna tell y'all about this odd black boy I know,
I met him a long time ago. He was a typical sheltered, protected little brother and son, the worlds' messages filtered from father to mother to sisters to brother into a form he could comprehend.
Love overflowed in his home and he became a spoiled little bastard.
Hold up.
I want to tell y'all about this odd black boy I know,
He is a daydreamer, head in the clouds of some far off land he's never set foot in, always in his imagination, his personal pillowfort. He has dreams of being a hero to the people, protecting those who were weak. He dreamt of being the second strongest man alive, second because Daddy was always going to be first.
He kept his face in books, a thirst for the why and how of things coupled with a love of the vagaries of the artist mind. Ask him and he will tell of the hieroglyphs of Egypt and how the pyramids are engineering marvels. He will appreciate a piece of neo new age art and later explain mitochondrial biogenesis. I learned that from him.
Hold up.
I want to tell y'all about this odd black boy I know,
His fingers made swift from tapping the hell out of the A button, later learning to move worlds with two sticks. He learned sword and shield and spell as easily as he learned run, jump and collect.
Letting his world flow onto paper and introducing all to his universe. Comics and stories became his namesake. "Meet Renn" he says. His imaginary friend is no longer his alone. Tall, blue skinned, super strong and brave. From time to time he still consults Renn, when flesh and blood people fail him.
The odd black boy came to appreciate beautiful things very young, his room adorned in glass figurines and keeping a rosebush outside his window, he loved waking up to the golden sun and watching the silver moon shimmer on the ocean. He loved the view from the worlds edge and while there he contemplated it all. Love, Life, Magic.

Hold up.
I want to tell you about this odd black boy I know,
I want to tell you he's cried to me. Yes this black boy cries. He doesn't want to do what he's told.
"Man up."
"Work hard because you're supposed to"
"Sacrifice your wants"
"Like music you don't like"
"Like sports you don't like"
"Fuck every woman you see"
"Don't be beautiful"
"Don't shine"
"Don't see magic"
"You'll be a real man IF...WHEN...AFTER..."
He tells me he wants to be his own man, his own way but the tide is becoming to much to fight, even Renn can't stop it. So he tries to fit into the square hole.
He tells me how he only now realized he was a black boy. How the world lets him know everyday when he's assailed by his reflections in cracked mirrors.
He asks me why he's hated when all he ever wanted was to love it all.
He asks me why his chance of being forced from the coil is so great when all he wants is to stay.
He begs me to make it stop. He begs me to stop the voices, stop the cries, stop the fear.
He demands to know why he receives nothing but contempt from other black boys and black girls when he wants to glow with them. Share and fly with them, smile and laughter to be shared is thrown back at him like a weapon then he's chided for not trying again.
He asks me WHY...
Hold up.
I want to tell you about this odd black boy I know,
He's tired. Sleepy. Rubbing his eyes and anticipating his dream. I let him lay down next to me and while he sleeps I stand between him and the wave coming to swallow him. I will not let him be destroyed. I will answer his questions. "Odd Black Boy, you're just who you're meant to be. You're that star someone looks towards at night. You're that innocence that the world wishes it could have again. You're the model for the next Odd Black Boy. You tell the world NO! I will not dim my light to fit! I will again stand at the worlds' edge and contemplate Love, Life and Magic." Odd Black Boy we will fight for this freedom to be the Odd Black Boy as long as we have to. I will catch you every time you fall. It's how you made me.
Hold up.
I want to tell you about this odd black boy I know...but I think it's better he tells you himself. He'll speak shortly. He's waking up.

Jack and Jennifer

The rain torrential, unforgiving in it's attack on her black hair, forces her feet and the six feet behind her to run,
"Come on this place looks okay" she yells, barely audible over the storm,
Two little girls laugh, naturally enjoying God's fury,
Two strong arms, swoop them up, laughing with them, twirling them,
Jennifer Aughth smiles from the canopy of their run down, pay by the hour sanctuary, finally safe from the rain,
The children, Bliss and Joy, spitting images of their mother, the same jet black hair and porcelain skin, are being carried to safety by their father,
This man, Gary was often questioned on how he managed to win Jennifer, plain as he was, no style, thinning hair, a belly that spoke of too many nights in a bar and mornings in doughnut shops,
"He loves me...," she would always say, always a word behind she would stifle.

Jennifer, her body a work of art, corralled her family into the shop worn lobby, greeted by a old man, eyes cold with an unforgiving indifference,
"We'd like two rooms adjoining please," she said, adjusting her sketchbook, something she oft ignored, but this time called to her when she left their mini-van, "You will need me, to capture the real storm," it seemed to say. "Take me too," and she obeyed.
Carrying old metal keys, smelling of garlic and neglect she strode down the musty hall, looking back to see if her family, two girls and one big boy were in tow,
Still laughing, still soaking wet, they were indeed behind her,
The doors opened with a crack and a creak, paint chips fell from the ceiling, and the lights flickers to life,
Their stay would be short, thankfully the rain would only last two days and driving was dangerous, they would rest, watch TV, play and maybe Jennifer would be inspired to hold her 0.7mm again.

"Two small tummys are waiting for me," Jennifer thinks, trying to wipe more of God's wrath from her midnight locks,
She is almost to their deluxe suite of mediocrity when she's turned around by the sound of a shower, bursting to life,
The irony was too much to ignore, "Why shower when you could just step out into one?" was the question she wanted to ask,
Why did she go into the open door of a stranger's motel room, what made her so curious to stop here and walk in?
She could not say until he opened the bathroom door, as if only for her, as if he felt her walk in, as if he was waiting for her,
Jack Caum stood there, sleek, slender, slightly unshaven, an untameable mane of brown hair on top of a tanned body,
"Well this is unexpected," he said, with absolute calm, a wry smile creeping up his face, "Need something?"
She was speechless, years of looking at the same average man, his pasty skin and doughy body, she forgot what passion looked like, felt like, and in one instance she remembered,
and it scared her,
She ran, hand tight on the bags of food for her family, repeating her mantra that drove her through the storm, "Two small tummys are waiting for me, two small tummys are waiting..."

Night brought Jennifer no peace, no solace,
the damage was done,
Gary was an ordinary man, that was what she thought she wanted,
Ordinary,
This tanned passion, this muse burned her soul, she needed, ached to see him,
Children asleep, husband cuddling them, she reached for her sketchbook and favorite 0.7mm, cursing the things for being right, and silently turned her back on ordinary,

She knocked, feeling butterflies, like a schoolgirl, she knocked again, eager for his gaze,
The sounds of locks giving way, and soon the portal opens, the muse is again before her, "Oh hello again," he says, shirtless,
"Let me draw you," is all she can say to her passion, four words nearly pulled down out of guilt but allowed to leave her mouth anyway,
The door opens wider, inviting her in, reminding Jennifer that she is more than a mother and a wife, she is also someone's muse,
Where before the walls were barren now her likeness, is almost everywhere, smiling at her, holding the sketchbook, running in the rain,
"You're an artist too," they say together, sharing a brief moment of lucidity before embracing, giving in to their passions,
In a moment, Jennifer and Jack are away...

"Leave with me, we could conquer the world, "he asks her, ignoring conventions,
She is shaking, feeling the pressure of choice, the fear of a wrong one, the gun is on her,
Gary, this average man, was ordinary, gave her an ordinary house, an ordinary life, with two ordinary daughters,
Jack was a man of his hour, living as he saw fit, never letting the world dictate to him what he should do,
And the answer was clear,
"I can't, Jack, I'm sorry but, I can't leave my family," she cried out, finally realizing her passion wasn't Jack, not the volcanic sex they just shared, not his body,
Her passion was her art, she could be ordinary and extra,
Jack felt his heart drop, seeing his new obsession slipping away, he couldn't lose her midnight hair and pure white skin, he could not,

So he pulled the trigger...

In a moment all her thoughts, all of what she is became a swirl of colors, of memories and feelings,
Cold, fell over her, a kiss touched her cheek,
In a moment Jennifer was away

Gary was gone now, no longer a father and husband, no longer a man, he took pleasure in his sadism,
He would not have much time here, only another day, but he would make every second count,
"I'll make you suffer more than you could ever imagine!" he shouts, his wife's body forgiven and shrouded,
"No you won't," Jack says with the same absolute calm, "Losing her was a fate worse than death."
The razor comes out, and Jack is punished for his passion.

This is the story of Jack and Jennifer, led together and torn apart by passion.