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Poem #27

This is for Michael and the rest of the Jackson family.

The glove was totally unnecessary.
You had a shine on you when you were nine years old.

We certainly didn't need the fancy choreography, either.
All you ever had to do was flash that silly grin and that was all the dancing from you we needed.

And we really could've done without that backwards walk.
It was just tape played backwards of you moving forward.

Do I even have to mention the first solo album?
Yes, because nobody mentions it and it kicked more ass than that one about the wall.

I didn't care for the people who followed you.
They couldn't aim their cameras straight enough to get the best shot at you.

You definitely didn't need to do all that race and language barrier-breaking.
Every kid with a poster in his room and a glove had long beaten you to it.

When you touched a child's soul everybody kept accusing you of getting too close.
The only soul they ever touched was with a fork and a glass of champagne.

Why didn't you ever stop loving those who couldn't just leave you alone?
Some ex-wife or disgruntled uncle always wanted to be starting something.

Oh, and by the way, I'm not going to call your name for you to be there.
It's going to be stuck in my head for a very long time