Fading Beauty

I just saw Beauty. I haven’t seen him in months. He looked good as usual. As a matter of fact he looked better than the last few times I’ve seen him. It’s ironic that I saw him today. Just this afternoon I was talking with O-Canada about my fascination with Black men – nothing fascinates me more than us. I told her that I have always wondered how each of us comes to be. What shapes each of us into the men that we are and ultimately become? We were all just young boys once. Did the boy who became a doctor always know that was his future? Did the soul on the corner pushing drugs or buying them have aspirations to live a street life when he was just a child?

Lord, when I look at Beauty I look in awe just wondering what he could have been like as a young boy. I imagine that he was sought after. I imagine that he was wanted. I imagine that he was well received. I also imagine that there was something about himself, his looks, that he took for granted and something about himself that he was uncomfortable with or didn’t like it. What that is I still don’t know. I’m going back outside tonight. I don’t know where Beauty is headed next. If I see him maybe I’ll ask. Maybe he will have an answer for me or maybe that’s why he is out doing whatever it is he does – because he doesn’t know the answer either. Maybe he is searching for it like I am.