Transcript
A (0:00)
Foreign. I'm Major Jackson, and this is the slowdown. Very casually one evening I commented on a shirt worn by a prominent professor. Saffron colored, a beautiful kurta. The passing exchange happened on a Friday at a dinner party. My compliment was not memorable in the least. I had forgotten about it as I passed them on the way to a charcuterie board. That Monday, a department administrator emailed to say that Professor B. Had a package awaiting me in his office. Several hours later, I was holding that very shirt in my hand, freshly dry cleaned. I was expecting a copy of his latest book. Shocked, I told the administrator that I could not. He said, it would be offensive if you do not accept the gift. We went back and forth. I cannot take the shirt, I said. While he talked, I thought of Professor B's generosity. I thought about the huge symbolic gesture of a famed critic giving the shirt off his back to an aspiring poet. In my community growing up, we purchased items to earn the praise and envy of our friends. If someone says a positive word about your gear, your car, your kicks, the mission accomplished. Both parties went on their way. As an adult, I have since learned to be careful of remarking positively on other people's items. They might give them to you, something that would not happen in my youth. My admiration for Professor B. Is thorough. He possesses a formidable intellect. I feared I would have to match his erudition in conversation each time I ran into him in the hallway. Or worse, what if, surrounded by colleagues, I babbled on and he found me unworthy of his shirt. Some years later, a mentor complimented me on my pen, a blue ballpoint, deliciously smooth on paper. I was in the middle of signing books. After a reading, without even looking at her, still peering down, I held the pen up in her direction, which she promptly took and put in her purse. Today's whimsical poem, a minimalist Lisp poem, meditates on the line between what we might be willing to let go and what we choose to keep for ourselves. Things People like to Share by Noir Al Sadh Things People like to Share Dessert. Anything that could make them fat or get them in trouble. The wait Intimate details about whoever is not present. Clothing, if female and in college. The ride home. Cigarettes when trying to quit. Things People don't like to Share A toothbrush, even if it has not touched a mouth and only stirred coffee. A spoon. The armrest. Anything that comes in a limited quantity or could break. Friends who may then spend less time with them. A bar of soap. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. This project is also supported in part by the National Endowment for the Arts. On the web@arts.gov to get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram at Slow Down Shell.
B (5:07)
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