A past friend.

We’re friends, brothers-in-arms,
you’ve got my back
and I know how your imagination works.
I’ve read your stories,
shared your writing and reading.

So after working late,
we get into a gig for free, again.
Because they’re nearly done.
But we both like the tunes
and the DJ set that follows.

That night, I knew the live stuff
and you knew the names
of the radio tracks.
And at every low point
I’ve listened to that music.

The tune’s still with me,
it’s grown, if anything.
The stories still flourish.

But where did you go?

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