By Tafi Mhaka
To the gorgeous afro-wearing lady in red: I’m not letting go.
We had a moment there.
My heart flickered.
The moment was simply divine.
Seeing you felt strangely familiar.
Seeing you for the first time felt scripted.
Yet I hadn’t auditioned for this love-struck part.
Now that we have come this far, the show must go on.
What is your name there?
What’s your story, babygirl?
You looked angelic.
I love the delightful red dress with the white stripes.
Do you listen to good soul music?
You are my K-Michelle.
My Keiysha Cole.
My Nina Simone.
You are my Nao.
Should I holla if I see you again?
What is a man to do in the heat of a moment?