City Love

My mom grew up as an Army Brat and as a young adult became a Hippie instead of a Black Panther or a member of SNCC (this caused some embarassment to me during my Black Nationalism phase). So when I was conceived through a romance that did not result in marriage I was deemed a “love child” instead of a bastard. I grew up listening to all different types of music (Earth Wind and Fire coupled with Boy George and George Michael) and falling in love with all kinds of style of dress (pink leather skirts as a 7 year old). My mom allowed me draw on the walls of my bedroom and keep it in a perpetual state of disorder in order to permit my creativity and allow my individual freedom to flourish.

So, growing up as “love child” and not a bastard, I am in love with love. I love all manner of music, cinema, literature, and people. One of my favorite things to love is the City. I love it because it contains all of my favorite elements: people, music, opportunity, art, electric vibes, and the rawness of life. As an ode to the city, to love, to people, to life I submit this sonnet written by one of my favorite musicians. This song illustrates what I view as an ideal 20-something romantic relationship. Oh, where is my CityLove???

CITY LOVE
John Mayer

I never liked this apple much

It always seemed too big to tough

I can't remember how I found

My way before she came around
I tell everyone

I smile just because

I've got a city love

I found it in Lydia

And I can't remember life before her name
She keeps a toothbrush at my place

As if I had the extra space

She steals my clothes to wear to work

I know because her hairs are on my shirts
I tell everyone

I smile just because

I've got a city love

I found it in Lydia

And I can't remember life before

The day

She called up and came to me

Covered in rain

And dinnertime shadowing

And as her clothes spun, we spooned

And I knew I was through

When I said "I love you"
Friday evening, we've been drinking

2 AM, I swear I might propose

but we close the tab

split a cab

and call each other up when we get home

falling asleep to the sound of sirens

I've got a city love

I found it in Lydia
From the battery

To the gallery

It's the kind of thing you only see

In scented, glossy magazines
And I can't remember life before her name