|Excerpts - Every Woman's Dream|
From "My Tropical Butch"
My tropical butch has spit shiny black hair with eyes to match and dark skin the color or honey which is what she lets me call her when no one else is around. My tropical butch is all woman even though she spills her change out of her front pocket onto the dresser when she gets home from work just like my daddy did and combs her short black hair back from her forehead just so with one hand chasing the other all the way around to the back of her perfectly shaped head. And even though some stupid man says, "Yes, sir?" when we pull up to his gas pump in her shiny red car, my tropical butch is all woman and don't you forget it, especially on a Saturday night in July like tonight when it's ninety-five degrees in the shade even though the sun went down hours ago when we were sitting on the front porch eating rice and beans and drinking pina coladas out of each other's eyes.
On a night like tonight, even though the air is thick as coconut milk, my tropical butch puts on her white pants, black shirt, white jacket and Panama hat and I know she wants me in a little red dress with shoes to match and earrings that bounce off my shoulders and hair that trickles all the way down my back because it's Saturday night and my tropical butch is taking me out to a little place in the city she knows where we can salsa, mambo and meringue all night long, since my tropical butch thinks dancing way across the room from each other with our hands and feet flapping is a major waste of time.
When a slow grinding number comes on, my tropical butch holds me real right and shrugs her shoulders so my whole arm slips up around her neck, first the right one, then the left, and then she puts a little kiss on my collarbone and slides her leg between my thighs and if I don't cut myself on the razor sharp crease of her bright, white pants, I tell you I am halfway to heaven.....
©1994 Lesléa Newman