Ay, Africa
i see you like teasing me
as you strode in
a half hour later today
making me believe
you were not coming back
again.
Ay, Africa
how is it that my boss
knew your name?
he carried your steamy tea
just once
and that's enough for him
while here i am
seventh day in a row and
i still can't tell the color
of your eyes.
But i still carry
your little black book
in my pocket
and it has your name
written below the cover.
But i don't want to read it
Africa
i want to hear it roll
from your lips.