Fitmama,
You have discovered my achilles heel. The only fact about me that calls into question my sanity. People look at me and they see sophisticated, fit, smart, sexy black chic with the world at her fingertips. They marvel at my aplomb and salivate at my sauciness. But as soon as they find out that I am in love with Keanu Reeves, they reel back in disbelief and wonder how long I should be in the therapist chair. Some guffaw in aw, others cackle like rattled teens, but they all express such despair that alas I was too good to be true.
Ode to Keanu
I shuffle in all black, the reason
This, my friend, is mouring season.
My cavelier fake lover is about to wed
In spite of reality, I have his soft voice in my head
It lingers from the last time we spoke
When I treked through sleet and rain
Up to Canada to see the pain
On his face as he dolled out "Hamlet"
No, really, I did. It's not a joke.
In a small intimate theater I sat with
Teenagers and old folks alike
All riddle with esctasy, we saw him recite
Shakespeare's beautiful and undulating prose
In an "dude-like," nonchalant pose.
Or the time when I smelled his air and touched his body
In the middle of a Chicago hotel lobby
I swear it was just him and me
At the bar in Kansas City
When played with his rancorous band and I went too far
By throwing my undies at "Dogstar."
But the police were kind and nice
Hey, what's life without a little spice.
Oh Keanu thou name means gentle breeze
Don't get married now, wait for me!