Boy (Piano)

Jamaica Kin­caid is one of my favorite authors. She is a fist in my gut. There are only three options with JK. Double-over. Die. Deliver. She is the sort of writer in my expe­ri­ence and cir­cle who you either love or not-so-much. She can be (fill in the blank) to some, but to me she is the pres­ence of the plow in my life.

At some point in her own life, she wrote a piece for The New Yorker called “Girl” which later appeared in the keep­sake i.e. bedside-table-worthy At the Bot­tom of the River.

At some point, in lieu of a love let­ter that might be stamped return to sender, I wrote “Boy (Piano)” and filed it away under internal-monologue-never-to-see-the-light-of-day. But how many know that God is good and he has a sense of humor. Here goes:

Boy (Piano)

“Boy!
A gon mek you a man. Mark my words.
A man! Good and sen­si­ble and reli­gious.
A man! You hear me?
And not like you papi from Sandy Point either.
Dem puff-out-they-chess ‘Fam­ily! Fam­ily!’ people.”

“Boy!
A gon mek you a man a sub­stance.
A cer­tain qual­ity.
A like de look a you.
If a ever have a son, he would do well to copy after you and you ways.
You look eager and afraid.
Dat look you giv­ing gon be the start of any last­ing relationship.”“Give me you hand.
See how you life­line long.
You and me gon mek some sweet music if you pay close attention.”

“The piano is a woman. You under­stand?
Boy?
You have a girl? What is it? You ain ready?
What you shak­ing you head for?
What is it Boy? You ain’ sure or worse?
Well, you gon learn to stroke this one.
Love her until she give you an ounce a what she hold­ing back fe surer hands.
Doan worry you head see. We gon start slow.”

“No! doan sit yet.
She ain invite you.
Doan you ever imag­ine you know this woman like de back a you hand.
Don’t you dare.
This ain part­ner­ship.
This here is tug-a-war.

Some­times she gon get the best of you.
Some­times the reverse. Just ready you­self in the mean­while.
Believe boy!
No mat­ter what you hear, say or whis­per.
A promise you, she gon open up real quick when you mek to dis­miss her.

A lit­tle provo­ca­tion never hurt.
Not a one.
Show her you mean busi­ness.
Watch how she watch you and move she skirt just so.
When she stroke you head, that mean lif’ you hand lil higher.
Let you fin­gers start another conversation.”

“Now sit. Keep you back straight.
Is back-breaking work dis.
You got to keep up you strength.
A woman doan want hear excuses.
All she want know sef you ready.
You ready? You sure you ready?
You sure, sure, sure you ready?
Yes, a like it already.
Yes Ma’am is right.”

“I tell you Boy, you got de look about you.”

“When you come in, set­tle you­self.
Not fe de long haul, but mek like you gon neva leave.
Brush you hand ova de lid.
Remem­ber, you ain’ have no idea where she bin, and you cer­tain you don’ wan know.

Now lifit up with some pur­pose.
You gon pro­pose an agenda.
You have fe always have a plan.
Doan ever set­tle and not know how you gon mek it wuk, at least short-term.”

“Hit you scales then.
Me and you know is prac­tice.
But mek she feel and believe you mean busi­ness.
Boy!
You a lis­ten?
‘Cause whether you know or doan care, she gon embar­rass you.
And doan come wid no pong pong wid one fin­ger.
Use all five, ten even.
That’s why the Mas­ter give them.”

“This here.
She.
This you new religion.”

“Yes… Yes…
Head up. Chin up.
You doan need to stop and look every time.
She gon always give it to you straight.”

“Boy!
You like it straight right?
You doan sound sure.
Maybe you sure, but you doan sound sure, sure.”

“You got to be sure.
A still like the look of you duh.
Yes. Keep it up.
You got a load a poten­tial in dem hands.”

Copy­right © 2010, Tynisha C. Leon

I’m Tynisha C. Leon founder of DASHEEN mag­a­zine — the online des­ti­na­tion where cul­ture feeds imag­i­na­tion. I am a cul­tural war­rior first and fore­most; and for me that sim­ply means that I am a light bearer for all things intrin­si­cally cul­tural and Caribbean. If you seek to inno­vate, pro­mote and/or con­tribute to posi­tioning a Caribbean peo­ple and gen­er­a­tion most pos­i­tively then link me!