to: greg

The laughter of the audience rings as a knell
on the the compact disk, for coinciding with that
thund'rous applause were the final notes
we'd ever sung together. Oh solider won't you
marry marry me with your musket fife and drum?
I am reminded that I loved him once, and
in this reminder realize that his absence is
well-borne. So I mourn love's sad impermanence;
number, count, and cherish the odd momentos
scattered throughout my bedroom; and
finally say goodbye to my singing theatre boy,
a flirt with rare charm and so desperate to be charming.
I bravely kiss and throw away my mass-produced USC flyer --
he is away and well, and I will love again.