So I've been having this craving lately. I was breezing by a kiosk and a fragrance caught my attention. A fragrance and a sign that read 4.99. The kiosk had shelves of burning oils and their burners. As I stopped to browse I was welcomed and turned into his face. He was cinnamon colored graham cracker and tattooed semi tastefully. The stand out was his head of locs. The kind that framed your face fresh tightly twisted and deliciously crowning. This had been my craving. An urban prince of this bricked jungle. A man with naturally wrapped and wound locs. One that was conscious community poet, urban individual industry flyy, or backpack artistic simplistic. All in general familiar with those " funny cigarettes" that you roll up yourself and are available in " dimes" and "nickels". He would be wheat colored, Ritz cracker golden, or roasted almond with a hint of red. He would smell something like coconut intertwined enough in his mane to leave the scent on my pillows.
This one had a smile that was sneaky discrete. He was urban hiphop cool neutral. As he brushed passed me to show a product I felt a surge of electrical current. I kept silent until he said " You felt that?" in my ear. Yes... I did. Yes. We can sit up in coffee shops and talk about Rakim or KRS1 or old soul veterans. We can argue about the plight of our culture or read passages from Arrow of God by Chinua Achebe. I can sit on your worn leather couch while you boil and create oils you name " SexDrunk" barefoot. I can lay against you and dip my fingers in the waistband of your boxers, because you're the type to only wear em. " Yes" I told him and he smiled that sneaky smile. Slick. As I perused his fragrant oils, he would open a few to bring under my nose for me to smell. We exchanged witty banter and he laughed when I picked up a scent called " Puzzie" making a face when I realized what it was saying. He commented on my accent and I pretended not to engage. Truthfully, I wanted him to fill my body with those electrical currents that we'd felt just earlier. I smartassed him through the purchase of a bar of shea butter soap and " Izzey Miyake" body oil. As I signed my card receipt, he spoke " Make sure you come back and see me". I sneaky smile replied, " As long as you're here, I will."
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