Kylie kouří, hladí a líčí se

wondering what it must be to embrace her, to be exhaled by her, to return to her.

She was the kind of black girl who had been told as a ***** that she better be smart because her looks wouldn't save her.

Told as a young woman that she was really pretty for a dark-skinned girl.

There was all about her a knowledge of cosmic injustices.

The same knowledge I'd glimpsed all those years ago watching the golden hair boys with their toy trucks and football cards and dimly perceiving the great barrier between the world and me.