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Black is beautiful 60s posters screeched
she was.
Born in scattered islands
growing up in white suburbs
I hadn’t seen many African-Americans – never a woman.

It was the age of Flo Jo
attention had a head start
cat like grace and imagined lion sexuality
every day at breakfast.

An airfield on the perimeter of civilisation
accommodation and work. Live and earn.
200 men maybe a dozen woman
the odds not favourable.

It could have been Pam’s humour
she was here with her husband
we worked mornings together
serving breakfast
she must have noticed. That look.

She whispers,
“she’s got no hair……the one you fancy ”
Tangled tumbling tresses belied the statement
joke?
“She’s got lots of hair.”

“No. Hair,” she said smiling slowly
hand waving downwards
“pussy
she shaves. I see her in the womens.”
Brazilian then a native of Brazil.

One day I have the 1000 yard stare
not uncommon here
a familiar face
and the voice – southern fried chicken.

“Missing something?”
ahhhhhhh
“Don’t worry honey we all missing something”
I’m sure she winked.