From the curvature of my upper lip to the way I push out the bottom....to the stern look on my face....voice, sometimes imposing...I usually see a reaction when a woman looks into my eyes. Always a reaction. Put your lips against my neck...the taste of a man....African...American...from the jungles of Malawi to the edifices of populous U.S. city beurocracies...a warrior nonetheless. No spear. I think with my weapon - twice as lethal as gun powder pushing lead. Intellectually satisfying and somewhat challenging. Broad shoulders wrapped around your torso embrace the overwhelming feeling of safety, comfort...and submission. Standing upright at six-foot-four inches tall with skin of bronze possessing a base which can still catapult 255 pounds of...me...through the air to push the leather through the hoop and hang on the rim screaming epithets...A man of joy and love, a man of mystery and resolve, a man of strength and endurance...I'm a man...I'm just happy to be...me....
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