Coleman Dowell

by Carl Van Vechten Library of Congress

Coleman Dowell (1925-1985)
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The look on his face—
When he suddenly realized
I was “Yolanda”

He got angry—
Then he got sullen, pouty
Then he spread his legs

I was “Yolanda”—
His slutty whorish girlfriend
His prison pen-pal
______________________

We wrote long letters—
A pair of yearning lovers
Lonely for some love

I could smell him and—
Almost taste him whenever
I got a letter

I was his rich chick—
Waiting for his nice body
And his needy dick
____________________

He beat me up bad—
Called me a goddamn faggot
Blackmailed me for dough

He like threatened to—
Stick me with his sharp switchblade
Me down on my knees

He took my money—
Then I “dropped a dime” on him
He was on parole
___________________

I tipped off the cops—
My ex-lover was holding
And they nailed him good

That was my revenge—
For his infidelity
Some more prison time

I picked up this kid—
A young Hispanic from down
There in Central Park
____________________

My black lover’s friend—
Threw me off the balcony
They called it Suicide