My Response To The Classification of Exotic

(A pretty old poem I decided to edit & republish)

He said I was fly
Swingin’ hips
Several shades away from standard type skin


Reminded him of wild remote places
didn’t mention it 
but I assumed
it came with juicy fruits, heightened "tropicana"

Thought I was a good dancer
even before learning my name
said rhythm was in my blood
buried beneath my veins
deeper than my self-awareness 

Must admit
I love the sound of drums
It’s primodial quality
It’s heightened pulsating capability 
I find it 
Almost spiritually exhilarating 
And in certain moments
I become one with its message 
It becomes me ...
That's when I move...
But then they say:
“She had to be a good dancer”
Like I had no choice in the matter 

The words tumbled in my head
eager to project from my lips
the fact that:
I’ve actually never encountered a jungle
My parents, parents lived in African-type cities
And I inherited that love for the city
Even though once in a while a touch of village life inspires me. 

Hoped he would find even more intriguing
I’m curious about every book I encounter
Question everything I hear
Write as a substitute for breathing
Dream of saving the world
Enjoy crocheting 
Corny Movies
Walking barefoot everywhere; 
And not for any primitive tendencies 
Crave cereal three times a day
An independent woman by choice
Deeply spiritual
Though not always saintly 
Still as the river Niger of my birth 
And yes, beautiful
For the simple reason 
The I am that I am
Contained in a divine spark
Is me.

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