I APOLOGIZE FOR THINKING (to/for Thelma Thomas) The last time you saw me you were looking at my back as I walked away. Were you aware you would never see me again? Was I aware that over fifty years later I would want to tell you this face to face? And those two questions are the major realities of life—does either person know how significant and long-lasting a particular moment will be when those fleeting minutes are going down? In the moment we can never know how deeply events will affect, indeed, not simply affect but even accurately foretell our future; nor, in that moment, can we predict how long we will carry those specifics with us in our rambles through life. Like a swift razor slice leaving a keloid scar and in this particular instant the knife was me dipping out and the face was what should have been my heart but instead was your murdered silence. I heard nothing as I left. What did you hear? This is an apology on paper. I wish it were delivered in the warm air between my mouth and your ears as we looked each other eye to eye. If I had not been such a barbarian, I could have been a real man rather than an unfeeling block of flesh thinking… —kalamu ya salaam