I met Marvin Gaye
On the radio today.
His honey voice
Sweetened my tea
The steam above it
Danced timidly,
A blue soul moved
And brushed my knee
And sang of lust and love of God;
Gospel notes from grapevine roots,
Purple notes filled with juice,
Healing and forbidden fruit.
You’ll cry when you learn how he died
From the man who gave him life.
A preacher who wore skirts and wigs
Gave bruises to his wife and kids
Whom Marvin gifted with a gun,
Knowing Father would eat son.
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