The most touching thing about Jay and Bey at the Grammys: an impromptu prose poem
Wasn’t her leaning into him while he rapped.
Wasn’t the grin on his face watching her strut.
Wasn’t the grip of his hands on her fatty.
Wasn’t the hug and kiss they shared.
Wasn’t even the surfborting they pantomimed
(Bey better than Jay).
It was the tiniest, non-sexual clasp of their hands
as Beyonce stepped down platforms in undoubtedly 6-inch+ heels.
He helped her down the stairs;
simple, but the gesture moved me.
It was the way she held her hand up and he grasped it
without looking, as if he is used to catching her
before she’s even in danger of falling.
This is what it means to be drunk in love,
that you are ready to catch your spouse’s hiccups
without much fanfare. Because love is a sobering state
that you must be at least a little romantically inebriated
to live in forever.
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Every once in a while, I listen to the point of view of someone who I’m predisposed to ignore and I am pleasantly surprised. This happened to me yesterday evening when the song “Feds Watching” by rapper 2 Chainz (formerly known as Tity Boi) came on the radio. Honestly, I’m not a big fan of […]
I have a complicated history with hip-hop. When it began to really swell in popularity in the ’90s, I wasn’t allowed to listen to it. Much of what the hip-hop community deems its classics passed me by (like the Pharcyde) while I was busy listening to more parent-approved music. Once I grew older, I began to […]