As I sat and stared into distant space, gathering the shimmering globs of chi, relaxing ,receiving the messages delivered thru great aethers when in the door marches these two large, muscly,yet anal black guys, dressed up suits, followed by a tiny, lovely, shining, smiling black woman, with shiny , pearl like , almost blinding teeth.
I need some slacks purred the polite and obviously cultured woman, throwing me off completely.
Exuberant with excess hormones, due to my mothers early on genetic like therapy, to machoize her intellectual ,book reading, feminine son, and turn him into a frothing sex maniac, with a perpetual hard on, that never seemed to stop throbbing, much like a fish on a warm fishing boat deck
I found her a pair of cool bellbottoms that had a side inlay, very cool indeed
I was wearing a pair as well, they were big hits, and large money makers, next to the 5 dollar jeans that I specialized in, after the successful removal of mark the shark, and his entourage of devils, well that’s several short stories from the strip daze.
Crazed by the times and the proximity of her almost delicious ass, I went for it massaging the pants to fit her pixie like frame, making sure my pulsating fingers explored every turn of her impressive,curvaceous,warm chocolate melt in your mouth and taste sooo good thighs.
I thought I was gaining points when she retired to the dressing room, both men taken back a little by my overly muscular body and stone cold demeanor chided
DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT WOMAN IS?
I SAID, AS A FAITHFUL HIPPY, NOT SURE OF HER NAME WHO IS SHE AGAIN?
DIANNA
OOOOH, I mumbled, sorry, I got carried away
Rummaging what was left of my depleted short term memory due to mountains of consummated pot, I realized she was a Motown superstar. Motown music was created by Phil Spector, perennial high school, bathroom cigarette compatriot, moocher. Grubby little guy with a old fashioned golf hat from some 30’s gangster flick
He later made a million dollars before graduating our high school, with a singing foursome called the teddy bears ,with those endless doo wahs, that I despised, as a true cool beatnik, listening to Miles Davis
Oh I said, thinking so what, but tried to show the proper respect and backed up a little
Thanks brothers I said, remembering hippies had no racial barriers.
I liked getting high with the brothers, as we were above any racial problems and all in it together. At least for then
The zebra lounge down; way down central avenue in watts in the early 60’s had the cool brothers stoked on miles Davis, bop, jimmy smith, proximity to an evidence room, or other pipelines were a trip to another world ,a world I now miss in today’s world of haves and have-nots,separating rather than uniting ,as it should be
She smiled amused as she followed her body guards down the stone path out of timeless occult.
I must say that her brief orbit thru the edge of my aura, had elevated my vibratory rates and once again embarrassed me in front of my guides, or any elders ,out and about, on the earth plane as invisible visitors, under the visit rules, watching my bravado to see if I slip up, and get past any old racist subconscious tapes connected to racism or worse yet nationalism.
I see her now 35
years later on the tube and she still is the reincarnated queen of