NYU Black Renaissance Noire NYU Black Renaissance Noire Vol 17.2: Fall 2017 - Page 110

Life in Between Your Sweet Parenthesis dear Bola De Nieve: thank you, and bless the man that brought you… to me on that special night near the coast of central Mexico, by the back room of club 87… Bola De Nieve: you fit in between the parenthesis of my life just as Cuba fits in between the parenthesis of this world
 your piano: like Havana’s architecture and voice: like a toast from its people
 your songs: …neither dark nor light: nor negro o blanco… but Cuban
 like the sound of an image applied to its motion…
the rumbling of an engine fading into the Viejo, as the exhaust lingers — saturating into the memory of all those candy painted Chevy’s shaking down the wide streets. Bola De Nieve: it’s a pleasure to share the confides of these parenthesis. the world seems to be moving in fast forward towards nowhere and I’m glad to have hid in the awe of your pause outside of the corruption of beauty how sweet you are! Bola De Nieve :
 an unmelting snowball in the Cuban sun as rare as the walls and life itself whilst in between your parenthesis.
 p.s. this poem is to be read to the rhythm of Nicolas Guillen’s heartbeat. - - - - - - - - - - - and next time you’re in Brooklyn and someone asks you why you never see niggas on corners holding the babies they always talking about… tell them: it’s because all these parental niggas moved to the exception of parenthetical Cuba and tell them, there ain’t no niggas in Cuba tell them in Cuba their just called Cubans. Bola De Nieve: your music is that of Cuban women, driving motorcycles, shattering the American ideals of toughness, with dresses on and high heels — they too ride in between these parenthesis with cigars lit and weaknes