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she emerged in high school

born of blonde cornrows,

and mini shorts,

a boy’s comment you look like Beyonce

my half smile and a giggle at the comparison.

an imaginary concert in my room

singing “Bills, Bills, Bills” to made-up men.

—————————————————

she was born of body rolls and hip jerks

a persona furthered by more blonde hair

but this time the braids were skinnier

long and loose at the ends, and men in Atlanta

yelled  Hey!  Beyonce can I get your number?!

———————————————————-

she was born because I wanted to sing

ever since I was three years old and saw

Michael Jackson sliding across a dance floor

and thought he was a girl.

and Beyonce, well she was my generation’s singer

so I sang her songs

—————————

she continued through college

I was dangerously in love with a short football player

who had a girlfriend.

got more blonde braids, but this time tinged with orange

met a volatile man from the bronx

hummed soldier as he roamed the streets.

——————————————-

she weaves in and out of my life now

no blonde hair to entice her presence.

but when I’m alone in my living room

or my car,

when i feel a man trying to do me wrong,

a microphone appears

and she’s there.

-nijla  ©2009

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