We ride on the backs and breast of those that have come before
On ancestor’s shoulders and great, great, great, daddy’s toes
With drops of frankincense and myrrh and rows of gold around our necks
We ride on ocean waves of blue blackness on top of undersea ancient temples imprinted
of our blue colored faces
We ride on Congo drum beats
with dancing moving hips and
breezy Blowing dreadlocks
on cowry shelled waist bead covered bellies
We ride on lion’s mane and canine teeth
On Elephant tusk and Zebra stripes
On library book covers
On wall filled Art Museum canvases
We ride in church,
in-between church pews and in the lines of church hymns
We ride on Egyptian tombs encased in limestone adorned with
(Us riding) in hieroglyphic text
We ride on guitar strings and thumb machines
In Paris, Korea, Alaska, and of course Mozambique
We ride through Southern towns…
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