string together a necklace of Wednesdays.
I go weeks like this:
where Friday nights spin
into a myth
I no longer believe,
where the words, getting over, italicize
into a mere idea.
I wake up some mornings,
and my grip feels so weak,
I check for stitches
at my wrists
to see if some young girl's hands
are now mine.
Some days my rough hands hurt
everything I touch;
some days I wish I had her
hands to make everything
I touch smile,
but, either way, I play
it off;
I get up; shower;
get dressed to report to work,
propped at my desk;
I speak - people look
like they hear a foreign language
all my own, a tongue
that no one finds exotic, simply strange -
and I'm talking about people
just talking;
I don't even broach the subject
of making love: there are no words
for this between our languages.
Some days I just want you to know
I remember, as a boy, walking home
from school, I saw Milton McKnight,
a kid we said was a little slow;
he was tied to a tree.
Three guys, for fun, were beating him
like a pedal on a bass drum,
but no music was coming out.
I want you to know, I remember
not Milton's blood but mine,
how I felt my blood coursing
through my body. This is how I learned
fear, how I had to tell my blood
to keep moving, relax. I did nothing.
I didn't want the three boys
to see me seeing them:
The kind of fear that keeps me walking
away from the scene, still.
Some days I can't even manage
a, Good Morning, or ask,
Man, did you see that game last night?
I can't do it.
The clichés bang against my teeth.
Some days I want to say something
to make you say nothing
just look at me, deeply,
or for you to say something to me
so true it'll bring me to tears
years later. Some days my grip is so weak....
Every day is a Wednesday....
But, I digress: remember,
we were in the middle
of not talking
about love,
about how I open my mouth
and inside there's a small town
full of people who believe,
who actually believe
in Friday nights and even Saturday
mornings where men speak
softly and women walk slowly
and their memories hold
no threats for today.
[A. Van Jordan, 'Remembrance', from Quantum Lyrics]
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