I think I gotta talk about him in the 3rd person. Saying “you were” like you ain’t still here hits different. Yeah, I gotta say “he/him/his”. I remember his smirk. I had the same one. The smirk when you need some dental work done but you’re still trying to show some teeth because you got Black boy joy and you love to laugh but until I get my teeth looking like I want you’re gonna get this smirk. 😏 Yeah, that one. I knew from then on you...uh...he was my homie. Fam. Cat was clean with the steps. Ballet sensibilities but could dawg you on the dance floor if he had the time and energy and he always had the time and energy. Sir Books-A-Lot, Books-A-Daisy, and Bookie McBookerson, I was never worried about him. Mans KEPT a gig. Had to. All those hats weren’t gonna pay for themselves. Brotha was cleanT I tell you. Refined. Knew who he was and lived in it so I guess that made/makes him fearless too. I admired it, envied it, worshipped it from time to time to be honest. Oooooo he was fun! Just fun. Wouldn’t allow you to wallow in whatever you were wallowing in. I feel like his heart was a house beat and he dared you not to dance to it. I don’t even know what happened, just got a text early in the morning saying he’d dearly departed and this is just my way of coping. Rambling on about a king worthy of far more than words in an Instagram post. I’m about to put on this new Beyoncé and boogie in remembrance of you...him...you. Thank you for the light. For turning up the volume on the house beat in your heart. For those encouraging and supportive talks everybody doesn’t need to know you gave me. Now go on and teach those other Ancestors the step. I’ll be listening for you. I know you gon’ have something to say. 🤍 👑