“I can feel things,” he said
as he loaded his car
full of items I’ve found useless,
things that will help his family
resettle in this new place.
“In the city, I can feel so many things going on.
Alabama is the place I wanna live.
I don’t feel things there.”

and as he drove off
with mattress tied to the top,
ironing board, desks, and toys,
I wondered what he could “feel”
coming off of me
as I ran up against my
ancient prejudices and
old fears in his presence,
things that were placed in
my thoughts
long, long ago
that I thought were erased
by time and by choice.

I’ve still got so much work to do.
I shall continue to look
at my ancient, cranking
machinations of thoughtstream habitmind
that waits in the
depths of my memorybank
to rise from the mud of
old stuff
at any time
like a screaming
smelly monster
threatening to
emanate from my being
where another might “feel” them.

I didn’t know that stuff was still on the fringe.

Thank you Mr. James.
You taught me something
profound today…
paid me much more
than I will ever be able to give you.

* * * * *

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