H A N S ~ from ~ H A M B U R G


BEING  EARNEST              c.1973               2.


A pleasant conversation was shared during the ride to where I resided, dropped off with cordial, knowing parting pleasantries. We entered my basement abode with peaked anticipation and exhilaration; at least, that was our outward sense albeit tempered with a little something.


I dimmed the lights to enable our caressing, kissed and conversed in what felt an endless and most seductive flow. Then, there came this sudden burst of teary expression catching, once again, me off-guard. This, a few years after my initial exposure to restrictions in another long ago, cross-cultural liaison attempt. This time there wasn’t a father voice whispering admonishing restrictions limiting our connection, as far as I knew. Yet, this was another conditioned to accent on this familiar causality. I was to learn another spin regarding my ethnic affliction, not benefitting my want to engage in this unsanctioned and socially oppressed relationship.


She revealed through her tearful words I was the first black male she felt drawn to have intimate relations, appealing enough to dare that social barrier crossing. However, she was not courageous enough to do it stone-cold, sober; hence, the joyous excessive drinking I witnessed. On the other hand, being aware of her inebriated state, I was unwilling to have this the condition our first intimate engagement.

Nonetheless, I had inadvertently sabotaged my ‘sure thing’ having her served too much coffee, which affected her blurred, socially constructed restrictive lines. Now, she no longer felt able to follow-through on our mutually wanton desires and tearfully apologized, and awaited my response.


Raised in a matriarchal setting, femininized at a tender age, I demonstrated more understanding and accommodation than she expected. Being raised by a single mother, with a younger sister; having grown-up a boarding/foster-home with a primarily female/sister-like household, it was second nature to accepted her sorrowful train in spite of my apparent coital losings. We shared engaging pleasantries, while I transitioned my longings into filial-like conversation awaiting the taxi-cab I called.


The night ended with a warmly, good-bye kiss and I watched her depart in the taxi-cab, never to be seen again.


She might have snuck back into the club with me unaware, and unseen; but, as far as memory serves, we never again set eyes on or engaged one another directly. I moved on, as was my way of engaging other opportunities that were to teach me more of what this society was about.


Life, in all its vicissitudes that I could recognize, and with all of its kindly issues by which I was to grow, and am growing.




1. Combatants c.'73


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