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who am i thinkin of


     (for beverly)

when i write     i think of my friends
the people of my visions
but how cd i presume to think of men
who leave so little behind    i find them
in my wash cloth     in the dirty dishes
by my unmade bed
when i write i erase these dark halls
lone subway stops  the car followin
too closely    how cd i presume
to address my self
to men
they leave so little behind
& still i dont remember.


once a poet
delivered valentino
on a tie-dyed sheet w/
tequila passion
the sheik gallopin a desert for me
another sketched me
in the midst of bougainvillea
another saturated my basement with painted skeletons
long ago a poet
telephoned from ny
to have breakfast
in seattle


i've waded in hidden creeks
with the men i remember
the others had no sense of humor

Written by Ntozake Shange (1914-2018)

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