Shoreline table, seats for two at sunset’s low tide
That I may gaze deeply into her optic nerve,
To gauge whether she cares for her oppressed people
Is she a straight-shooter for justice, or might she swerve

When the reparations fight becomes rough and tumble
I want the woman to clasp my hand that much tighter,
“Baby, we will get to the other side together”
A mocha warrioress, damn, that’s sexy, my co-fighter

I need a soft, strong, resilient ADOS woman tonight
Sexual relations, I’ll show her, are not my aim,
But to share strategies for the liberation of our people
That our fires for ADOS redress is mutual—the same

Might a man be so lucky, what, in this sell-your-soul time?
Would she understand that these are days of grace,
My shoulder is a welcome haven for her tender head
It’s quite alright were she to slap my bearded face

For entertaining taking anything less than $15 trillion
Federal protection of our tribe, a census ‘ADOS’ box,
Both an online and offline dedicated economic base
Healthcare that includes as-much-as-needed mental detox

From the centuries-long Post Traumatic Bondage Disorder
Lurking within our wounded-walking and the half-asleeps,
That she sees the homeless are looking more & more like us
That freedom must be repeatedly seized—or away it creeps

Given to others who have in no way endureth
Why have they been bequeathed our ancestors’ wealth?
More than 200 years of uncompensated labor
Mocha woman, we are the disinheritors . . . by stealth:

Crooked laws, avarice, integrity-less leadership
Our righteous claim is myth and hear-say no more,
Our forebears’ bones are kindling to this ADOS fire
A hastily written “universal” campaign pledge: What for?

A mocha ADOS woman, Heavenly Matchmaker, yes
Who’ll accept my hand for a second date—post-Reparation,
No, she won’t owe me another, but that ocean beckons
From agony . . . to ecstasy, to the joy and jubilation

But should this be our one and only summer’s night
Carry my heart, ADOS woman, as you make your way,
To a future for which our ancestors sacrificed their lives
Until we meet again, same table, on Pamper-Her-Friday

Love in the Struggle,
Rg2

______

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Pamper the woman . . . and repaireth her soul. -Rg2

© 2019 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®