CALL IT DE JA VU…
Born in Venice, Harlem. It’s so sweet, with sour sauce. I toss my head up to the silver sky, and then I sigh…look at all the blessings in my life.
“You’re better looking in person than in your pictures,” he said to me the first time we met, finally. I snapped a mental picture of him at that moment. You always have to save a trump card, so I didn’t say it. “You’re the perfect male specimen your damn self!”
There weren’t any breaks in conversation. Down Crenshaw, across Venice Boulevard, past World on Wheels, up La Brea, past Leonardo’s Dancehall, across Wilshire. Keith Sweat came on the radio in the background. Make it Last Forever. Somebody slap me, because it could be 1989. I’m lost in the ether, somehow.
Starbucks, over Iced Green Tea Latte and Pomegranate Smoothie, I sensed he was a Gemini, and I was right. My last experience wasn’t a good one, but I have to let bygones be bygones. After all, this date is 15 minutes in and he’s opened every door for me, acted the perfect gentleman.
Flashing back in my head to our conversations before we met. “I don’t understand how you could still be single,” I revealed to him. “I’m the most single man you’ll ever meet,” he deadpanned, leaving me to listen between the lines. Player with a passport, I know. 100% rock star to the heart, I realize. Former runway model, so I’ve heard. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Across Wilshire, up Norton. Dropped me off at home, said he had a meeting, he’d scoop me back up later. Bath, hair, skin, scent, feet, face. I won’t lie, I packed a little bag in case it was like that. Dressed, chillin, listening to Sade’s Sweetest Taboo, he rang. Outside in ten minutes, did I have any tea? Ten minutes later, two cups of steaming Chamomile Mint with fresh Orange, me out the door. Sipped tea and chatted under the starlight on the stoop. I learned more. Stars sparkling up above me, sparks flying all across us.
Teacups in hand, we strolled around the neighborhood, smelling the flowers in the air. Crisp, dark, clear, beautiful L.A. night. Crenshaw so close, yet so far away. Secret doorways, weeping willows, “I’ll bet if you picked one rose, they’d call security”…I’ve walked these streets since I was able to walk – how in the hell does he have me seeing things I’ve never seen before? Where did he come from?
Back in the truck, headed east. Up Western to Sunset. Sunset east to Sunset and Hollywood. Drinks in a low-down bar, Chinese theme, all-gay female DJ night on the wheels of steel. Pearls of Wisdom, followed by an Orange Bang. Good Luck. Mine, apparently.
Parked in front of my house, we talked for hours. Took another walk around the blocks. Same sky, same spiderwebs, same sparks. My arm hooked through his, as if we’re strolling around at 4 pm instead of 4 am. Through the courtyard of the Los Altos, up to the door, he showed me the lobby. My family has lived on this block since before I was born, but you’re showing me something I’ve never seen in my life on this block. Who are you?
Back in the truck. Sunup is imminent. Lean back. First kiss. Breathless. I mean I literally could not breathe. I nearly asphyxiated, not that he knows that. Can’t show them any weakness, no matter how much of a gentleman he is. It’s still Dogtown. Push it to the back of my mind. He’s as sweet as cherry pie…wild like Friday night. He’s got me singing (already) Ooh La La La La La La Lalalala, Sweet Thing. And I can feel this for sure, for sure. I’ve been here before. I’ve been here before. Floating. Beyond the clouds. Melting. Hotter than July.
6 in the morning, slid in my front door. I’m on another planet, but back home to where I grew up. Just a kiss, that’s all it took. That’s all there was. Up for 27 hours, but still not sleepy. If I were a bell, baby I would ring for you.
Who knows what tomorrow brings? I only know one thing. Who are you to say, what he does when I’m not around? Just because I fell in loooove with…Cassanova Brown.