Beautiful brown boys with beautiful bodies, oh how I wish to hang out with you, kiss you on the cheek, and call you my boo. But do you have a beautiful mind? Do you have a beautiful heart? Past chronographs chart stories of inequalities, shade, and rude remarks or engagements. I hope that is not future time, future space is held too precious. As you walk on, I look and imagine what has been, and what could have been, which point only to my present.