(To Mike, with regret.)
We were searching
For an echo;
to our sound
a voice that whispered evil,
a voice we finally found.
We thought we were singing do-wop,
two voices joined one,
and Satan let us mark harmonies,
until compassion and humanity were done.
You were so catchy;
I’d join your voice anywhere;
even dark caves
where bats sucked skull-blood
After tangling with your hair.
I’ll never know what I did wrong,
Though I think you hated every song
Led by me and from my creative mind;
how many partners have you found?
How many times have you left them hopeless
But I was an artist, a singer and penner,
unafraid of your clear tenor,
so you left one day for reasons unexplained,
my voice unsamed, my throat unclaimed.
I’ll never find a partner who complements,
My sanity and halfway sense
With even one-tenth of the love that you pretended;
but you’re dead to me now,
And I’m half-mended.
for an echo
to scorch us when we were cold;
you searched the wrong voice first, my friend,
I won’t break