A POEM - STRIDES OF THE TALL AFRICAN

STRIDES OF THE TALL AFRICAN
The thing about Nigerian Frank
was that he had these
long fuckin’ legs.
And when walking up stairs,
he’d use those long legs
to skip two steps to one he touched.
So we’d be going along,
talking about some subject,
then we’d reach a staircase,
and suddenly he’d be at the top
while I was only a third the way up.
When I’d finally catch up to him,
he’d say, “my mon, you must
learn to climb stairs foster.”
I’d look back at him,
his long fuckin’ legs,
and I’d say, “shit, Frank. What’s the rush?”
He’d give me this huge,
all-knowing Nigerian smile
and reply, “ah, no mind. We walk.”
And we’d be off again,
walking and talking where we left off,
until the next flight of stairs.