Uncle

Uncle

We moved through the swinging brass and mahogany doors of the Lounge into the Zebra Room
my Lena and I

There was Uncle
At His table
Scotch over rocks in one hand
Lit chalk in the other
For lessons would be taught

I called him Uncle
For that's the way it was
A man was either
Brotha
Uncle
or Sir
otherwise not a man at all

Billie was cascading through the speakers
I could hear
Scag in her veins
Scotch over rocks in one hand
Lit chalk in the other
For lessons would be taught

Uncle greeted us, my Lena always first
He embraced her as my candle
Yet told her at times she'd have to be the switch

"Baby girl, don't let him serve up no Suga Honey  Iced Tea,"
he warns her nodding towards me

She smiled, "No problema Tio, I don't take his shit"

I ignore their laughter and simply hand him my notebook

round one

Uncle took deep drags of his cigarette as he read
He  was the only man who's fire, smoke and ash I could tolerate
It lingered over us
As ethereal as his mind and pen

Cutting

Poignant

Addictive

"Listen to that children," he said as he closed his eyes, "Listen to Coltrane's sound."  

"Do you hear the rhythm within the rhythm?  He asked
The internal rhyme?
That's what you want son.
That's what you need to find"

round three

"Give your people a voice whenever you can.  
We've been taught our skin is our shame,
but wear it like a peacock over the sand so they'll know your name"

round five

The lessons continued

Voice

Pace

Metaphors

final round

"Do you write best when you're loving baby girl here hard, or fighting her hard?"

"Both," I answered without hesitation

"Then fight her hard, but love her hardest."

I knew he wrote best when his heart was broken
Broken by

Blood

Love

Hate

We said our goodbyes, sweet nectar consumed
Lena leaned into him and whispered in Spanish
They laughed again, and once again it's ignored

We stepped out in front of the vermillion facade of the

LENOX LOUNGE

A poster in the window declared  

"A Night of Poetry and Essays in Elegance with Langston Hughes
August 3, 1966"

He never got to read to the Harlem faithful that night

I'm just grateful he read me

Presented in the challenge, ONE NIGHT WITH YOUR FAVORITE FAMOUS POET hosted by devilish