Not Alone

Charlotte Gainsbourg, AnOther

(The Week Michael Jackson Died)

From the four corners,
people observed
through grieving family eyes.
I was not alone.

Down the blood red carpet,
a golden casket
carried The King
popped
in his final act.

I’d sing to him.
I’d sing with him.
I’d cure him
of his instabilities
and self loathing.
But I’ll never meet him now.
I’ll never get to hold his hand;
to heal the world,
to save each creature
by his side.

I am not alone:
missing him,
his philanthropy ,
his unconditional, total love.

I flash YouTube
one song
after another;
sing them
with unlicensed
Karaoke lyrics.
The pain doesn’t stop.

I remember hours
of burning electricity —
spinning tunes
dancing just like him
or maybe dancing my own
chassé-Marimba-two-step.

I pull out the vinyls
and drop a tear
on every album sleeve.

I return to the world of today:
to neighbors,
to newscasts,
to blogs in Japanese .

Around me —
emotional schemas
of every variety;
and I realize,
I am not alone.

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Hear this on chirbit

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Written for:

Magpie Tales – Mag 153

Also posted on:

OpenLinkNight ~ Week 81