I wouldn't know but I read about it
in a poetry book,
about a woman wearing 6 inch stilletto heels
on the arm of her white butch.
she was beautiful, the sheen of her black skin
dark against a glittering white sheath gown.
the whole room turned and gaped
in the biggest small town between
Chicago and L.A.
I would have stared, too,
breaking away from my white balding husband.
I know what he looks like 24/7
and I still love him.
But that would have been something to
imagine them together, the white butch
and her black lover, skin on skin under
flashing lights, who knows what they
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