When Voices Blend

 

When Voices Blend

I’m no musician but one summer 
for campers with my guitar 
I sang sad folkie songs.

Tell old Bill, when he comes home
To leave those downtown gals alone
This mornin’, this evenin’, so soon…

Another counselor, Reggie 
with the better voice, high tenor 
joined my low in a harmony that thrilled,
sent electroshock quivers deep in my chest. 
Closest we ever came to touch. 

Reggie black, me white. 
Inside him, a sadness—you heard it 
in the notes, the tinge of blue.
Girls always sweet on him. 
He danced, laughed, shied away. 
Queer, back then in Missouri, a dirty word.

I didn’t understand the mechanics 
of harmony, how the notes, which way.
Same so, the culture of gay.
 
And the world shot us out 
like pepper spray. No contact 
until a photo, Facebook, an obit saying 
in New York he taught music, drama, 
beloved by college kids, appeared 
on stage with Meryl Streep. 

Oh Lord, tune for me my old guitar. 
Fingers are stiff but in a Mendocino fog 
after half a century comes the music 
of memory, the mystery of harmony, 
the shock of love—this morning, 
this evening, too late. 

…..

First published in Rat’s Ass Review 
Thank you editor Roderick Bates

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