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  • Today I'm on the other side of what happened, a year after the day a fire gave way to the wind.

    You left us with the bad medicine to draw meaning from your life. And a white truck with dirty tires rolling down the freeway of my mind.

    Perhaps I'm on other side of anger, but there is no relief in this.

    I still stare into an ocean of paint that is no longer mine.

    And memories that exist without answer.

    It was our show, remember?

    My head still holds your laugh, the long arms, and that sideways glance.

    A fictional character time-warped from Paris circa 1920 with a haircut just like mine.

    With you came the wisdom that there is no meaning to the separation of life. Music, art, people, laughing, working, why do we see them as being different.

    You learned this great lesson before me……the lesson that division of life is a sacrifice of balance.

    Forget the words, its the rhythm in music that holds the freedom. And it's the notes we play everyday that move stop waiting for the band.
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