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Poem for Bob

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I want to know
how is Bob at all the shows?
I want to be Bob.
I want to get in free or
have the money to spend
each weekend on covers.
I want people to smile at me
not because I’m pretty but
because I am an expected
reassuring part of their night.
My mere presence dictates that every little thing
is going to be alright. There will be
no drunk driving there will be
no bloody fights your lover will not flirt
with someone else. My gray suit
is made of good luck and
when you take me in a hug
it shares its power. The keyboard I wear
slung over my chest those notes
that travel out when I play–
they call the angels to keep you safe
from too much fun. And when the night is done and
Elm Street is quiet I will go to that place
where no one knows I live and I will talk to people
who may or may not exist and
I will say a prayer for the ones
my music did not reach.

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Bob’s story

3 Comments

  1. WordPress is so weird. I am logged in and it recognizes my Gravitar above, but does not recognize me in the comments unless I add my email. Squirrely.

    • I just gave up on expecting anything related to technology to make sense. No… that’s not right… I just gave up on anything ever making sense at all! When you do that everything makes sense all the time 😉

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