Langston Hughes Drank Here
Black on black,
man on man,
dancin’ slow and hot
in this Harlem haven.
My black hand can touch
your beautiful cheek
as you flash mauve-colored lips
beggin’ a taste of my tongue.
Langston Hughes drank here,
found his best poems in the arms
of beautiful men
with mauve lips.

Can I climb your sugar hill?
Wanna lick that hill.
Till it’s wet.
Gets sweeter every minute
as it ascends into the stratos
of my mouth like a volcano
spittin’ out molten lava
to the rhythm of Sweet Georgia Brown.
Langston Hughes drank here,
drank this lava
like it was tonic.
Lived on it.
Lights low
but your flashin’ mauve lips
are a beacon for my travelin’ tongue.

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