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| Arnaldo Reyes |
OK, I'll admit it. I'm posting this poem because it strikes a really deep, resonant note in my soul and solar plexus. But I'm willing to bet it speaks a universal truth that many can relate to. The poet, Jennifer Franklin, explains its origin: "This poem was written on a napkin in Brandy's Piano Bar in New York's upper east side. Brandy's is a remnant of old(er) New York where a solo featured pianist and a handful of bartenders take turns playing 80s ballads, Bob Dylan, and the standards. We arrived, close to last call on a bitterly cold February night ... Just before close, two patrons asked if they could usurp the piano and mic for a three-song set. They were brilliant. Their set happened to be the nostalgia of my childhood jukebox, presented as spontaneous and ironic, but nonetheless sincere and therefore sad." From poem-a-day:
The boy beside me
is not you but he
is familiar in all
the important ways.
I pass through life
finding you over
and over again—
oppress you
with love. And every
surrogate?
Afflicted by my
kindness, they leave
me with my music.
I loved you before
I ever loved you.
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