Soul Traveler.

• Author: Coleman, Wanda
• Position: Poem

not dispersing but containing blackness it was the ending of the 1950s and so reruns began like Amazon style, summer came calling, fried brains and all dumbfounded in Los Angeles where mosquitoes drowse in noonday heat bloodlust drained from tropical eyes the air thin as a ghost's brassiere pimpmobiles took the heights like llamas where dollars shine from foreheads as smooth as polished fenders and from oversized designer pocketbooks toted under shaved and flavored underarms breasts revealed in bright colors, tank tops and bustiers negra Afro angel pat those cheeks in Spanish, those too round stutters and lingo dug by all quietly there's reciprocation in snatches from whistling lips, sunbeams and posters of James Dean (shy tourist girl, a face all acne and inexperience shares her mother's private smile buy something, some trinket, support the...