when we spoke on the phone last week.
when I saw your shoulders tremble
when you looked me right into the eyes
when you told me you were a poet
I have not told you yet; I have lost many friends through death and moving around and being who I am and what I do. I have not had a good friend in over a year and a half. It has been so hard. I want to call T and tell her about what is happening here and she will be dead in her grave almost two years. I want to walk up the street in my old town and see my friend who was my professor and have lunch with her and breast cancer took her from us all and I still wonder how her daughter is doing and how she told us she would walk on the street in a southern city and people would spit at her and they did not know her and they did not know she had her doctorate, she was head of a department at a major university and she was a well-known activist in the community.
I am writing you this love letter
you are a part of my life now
and this year
I will be writing love letters
you are one of my firsts
you will not be the last
because of you
I have learned so much already
because of you I know what do-be-do-be-do
really means for me and
I want to find out what do-be-do-be-do
means for you and those you love and
those with which you live.
You are becoming my friend
and you are a poet.
How rich I am.