Sweet Laughter in the Night
by Jemille Ronda Hardy
My hips roll and bounce as
I stroll down South Side boulevards.
Moist breezes tease me,
exploring the realm beneath my skirt,
slyly tickling my knees.
Like June bugs drunk in their season
swarms of boys gather in the dark,
their ceremony as old as time.
Peals of laughter break the hush
of twilight creeping into night's delight.
From shady spaces
between red brick boxes
where colored folk dwell,
I feel old charcoal eyes sketch me.
As young voices call my name,
old hearts escape time's rigid frame.