Sammura,


I know you cannot stop reading here, so I will address these very private words to you publicly.

Do you remember the "lockdown"? Yes, you know what I'm talking about--and it's not 26th and California. It was that hole in the wall out in Austin where you were employed... well... as a hole in the wall. I'll never forget the moment when you smiled after driving me to the heights of ecstacy. I looked down and saw those gleaming white teeth covered in my manly maple syrup, your tranny wig slightly askew... After recovering from what I thought was my first gay experience, I paid off your Gary Oldman pimp and we drove off in my El Camino together. There were no races then, no hate. Just two crazy devoted servants to Allah (PBHN), young and united by much more than the same Board of Health counsellor and VD clinic (teehee!)

How you've changed since then! What has come into your life to harden your heart so? The last time I made a "donation" for your services (my cat couldn't eat for three days after that), you looked over your shoulder and I saw a glimpse of that tranny-like lover I used to know. But she was aged, terribly aged, and sad. Has the weight of thousands of anonymous cum shots dragged you down so? Have so many arrests and "happy hour" in the 13th Precinct breakroom caused you so much pain? What has caused this bright black angel to dim, sweet child'o'mine?

Know that in me, you always have a friend. You used to tell me that you couldn't become aroused without cigarette burns, but I tried to brand you with my Kools in the most loving manner possible. What more could I have done? What more could I do for you?

And what of our son? Our son, Sammura, who you have so cruelly kept in the dark about his bi-racial heritage. Here we are, citizens of this fair state, on the cusp of electing the first multi-racial senator in the history of this country, and here you are spouting this language of racial conflict. I never believed those rumors about Ron Jeremey and you and a turkey baster, I know the truth and I think it's time that little Tito and Jermaine know as well before they start shooting each other for Starter jackets and phat pants or feel an ardent desire to strap explosives to their chest and drive into Jewish delicatessens or some other expression of their lost racial heritage.

I've always told you that I had a place for you. Yeah, you'll have to get the fuck out when I want to take a shower in the morning, but a little second hand soap and water could do wonders for your complexion. Give it a try!

If loving you is wrong Sammura, then I don't want to be right.


Love,


Smiling Arab
(smiling for you!)