he believes in me,
that a lot is invested in me,
that it's not going away.
this is it, he says.
this is my life now, i think.
but he tells me that the point where my goals actualize into something
he shows me this with his hands,
always talking with his hands, clasping them,
showing me with his fingers moving like a river over the other.
he tells me i'm brilliant,
that there are people whose hearts are with me,
"because you of all people,
had to deal with this thing;
of all the mundane things to have to deal with:
he is right, it is mundane.
and that is what most people will never understand.
we both tear up, looking away for a moment.
i take my hat off,
feeling the static electricity coming off the ends of my black hair.
i think of walt whitman,
the body electric.
and i remember why i am here.
that i can stand up and walk out of his office,
that i can move, one foot in front of the other, if it is all i can do at times.
that i am moving forward,
even as the river seems to move past me,
i am a part of it,