Saturday Mornings and Sly Stone

I open one eye, then the next.  I am awake and immediately I summon them forth, my attendants.  They are a little bit slower than usual, but still on point.  The one that brings something to drink is my favorite.  She smells sweet, plus she gives great hugs.  Once I let her kiss me on the head. She holds me in her arms, and tickles my belly with her lips.  I will keep her.

There are others, a boy and two girls.  They are taller than me, but who cares? There are bars between them and me because they shouldn’t be allowed so close to greatness.  I am the one and only.  There will never be another like me.  They come to watch me perform.  I oblige because it humors them.  It’s how I earned my name.  They shout it out as I reach for the clasp at my waist.  I so hate this garment.  It feels so much better to go about without it.  I will have my way!  The moment approaches.  I unclasp, flinging the offensive garment across the room.

You were first, Josephine Baker, with your banana skirt dance.

But I am Sho Sho, and I dance au naturale sans le Pamper.

Someone sings Sly Stone’s newest, changing the line “Ooh  Sha Sha” to “Ooh Sho Sho.”

I tap my foot on the mattress of my crib in time to the clunk of the drum.

Copyright © 2011 Kimberly Yarbrough Carpenter
Music suggestion:  Everyday People,  Sly and the Family Stone

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