Wannabe

This is a piece I wrote for a class, as usual. It was all done on Monday, in about two hours. I was extremely surprised at how “easily” the words poured onto the page and how I ended up in an entirely different place than I had intended.

Listen

Today I go to see the show
What awaits me I don’t know.
The artist big the audience small
We are closest of them all.

Up on stage the lights go dim
Nothing’s between me and Jim.
A muting darkness settles round
Jim on stage not yet a sound

From his guitar. The strings start swinging
As he picks them and he starts singing
As if his fingers also play his vocal chords.
This perfect unison of six accords

Recalls my memories of forty years
When I shed with Jim so many tears.
The wife that left him the one who died
His brother crippled ’cause of a pres who lied.

He sings of Jenny whom he took
To his favorite rock down by the brook
And they made plans for their young lives:
Three kids a house one another to survive.

Jim is absorbed in playing his guitar
Although I’m close I feel so far
Away from him twenty thousand miles.
Then he looks at me and he smiles

A truly bitter grimace hurled at me.
“Can you forgive me about what happened with Jenny?”

—renew
February 05, MMVII

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