talked me into dancing in the fountain of youth.
i don’t know how she knew i danced at all.
unless once, a long time ago, my mamma told her so.
but she did talk me into dancing.
i leaped and swept my way through the fountain of youth
separated on the stage from all those limb-tight white girls.
the ones who wouldn’t dance with a negro,
they went home in a huff that first day,
but some came back.
they told miss harvey they’d dance,
but they wouldn’t
touch any brown skin girl.
only the little girl from new york,
esther,
that funny talking kid,
only esther didn’t mind about me being colored.