When your memory of 25 years ago is different from his
laughter between voice and speech class
'cause your down south sound was sexy to his ears
gathering growing Artists to discuss Shakespeare turns into A Raisin in the Sun
or Malcolm vs. Martin because being from up south, mid-west, thumb-area in the mitten,
bordering on Detroit, simmering revolution came from the pit of my belly...
not telepathic I like your smile messages...
we're meant to be family not foe...friends not lovers, oh...he listened for a minute
then gifted me a song on flute or harmonica...music-ing his native blues
as my roommates intervened "Oh How I Love Jesus" surround sound-style
'til we just 'bout got kicked-out of our domicile...
pray, chant, meditate, break bread and repeat
good stuff you can't make up as we walked the streets of New York...
midnight...1 am, 2 am...wee hours of the morning...
still rehearsing those steps, that monologue, our duet for tomorrows 10 am class
he always called me a class act...said you're ahead of your time...
you're not looking at me...or anyone, he said...
just looking ahead, beyond Krush Groovin' School 101
so fast that the notion of running out of gas or accidents or detours was never entertained...
all true...recollection of 1st time voting for a president was Jesse Jackson...
he played Michael Jackson and Taylor Dayne on the boom box
in front of the school on W. 73rd St.
spelled our names backwards in Chickasaw tradition or what he saw as tradition
Nita was there, Ingrid, Randy, Sandra, Willie them...
Trice and Lisa...Joey Barcia...Ivy...
all musical theater babies...all with different memories...of 25 years ago...
most of us still here in the physical realm...
chatting each others ear off like today was yesterday...
when your memory is definitely different from his...well...
that's when you come to accept that genuine connection is timeless
and good memories...priceless...
by Shonnese C.L. Coleman
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