LETTERS TO FELICIA (PART 4)..Felicia, Your Hair Is Like A Bee Hive

Dear Felicia, Today I found the old box were we kept our passports and travel documents. I found this picture of you we took when we visited the great wall of China. Your hair was disheveled and black, and your smile radiated like a white bed spread in the sun. You looked so divine. You won’t believe this but I spent almost an hour staring at that picture; your face beetled sublimely like a gentle lake. I also found the silvery set of forks and knives you stashed in a pouch somewhere, I laughed, rubbed my fingers through the silver and remembered how fondly you believed that our culture demanded we eat with our hands and not these shiny shiny antics; you called them. O how I miss your hair. Do I sound perverted missing that part of you? I don’t care. The feel, the grip, the texture and even the smell. If only hair were edible, I’d have eaten yours by now(Don’t mind me).

I would never forget how I teased you about how your hair could never flow freely in the breeze like a white woman’s own. Often you’d tell me that black hair was like the night sky, an eventide with tiny stars that twinkled; I believe you were referring to how oil glistened on it. Today I’m missing you so bad and the loneliness I feel is downreaching. I think I’d make tea, with a cube of sugar to help dilute this feeling. The man who never stopped to loveyou,