Brad

Have you heard
what I've heard
about that guy
we used to know?
His name was Brad,
he was cool,
and we laughed and joked and fought and cried
until we thought we'd die.

When we were still preteens
Brad learned to play guitar.
We'd make up songs in his mom's car
and he'd go home and write the music.
Not quite our style but he pursued it.

The day I turned fifteen he asked if we could start a band:
me on vocals, you on bass,
him on guitar, and some kid named Chuck on drums.
We could be famous.
We could be stars.
We could have fans all over the globe
chanting our names at all of our shows.

But it didn't work out, the band fell apart.
Chuck became a drug addict and you favored art.
So it was just me and Brad
playing together on the streets,
and eventually that fell apart too
when I realized it was too much for me.

While I turned to writing
Brad turned to a different stage:
watching plays and musicals and movies all day.
He decided to be an actor
but the local productions he thought "beneath him."

So he saved all his pennies
and flew to LA
hoping Hollywood would certify his talent and charm.
I guess they did,
I haven't seen him since the day he hopped on the plane.

Me and you, we moved on with our lives,
becoming distinguished in our respective fields.

I got a call the other day.
It was Brad.
He said he'd made it big acting, the rediscovered the guitar.
Scrounged together a band.
Called themselves Back to Beginnings.
They got recognized after about a year.
So now, instead of our-childhood-friend Brad
he was famous-actor-and-guitarist-in-an-equally-famous-band Brad.

I did some looking, after his call.
No one's ever heard of him or seen his films
or listened to his music.

So I called him back
and told him what I had -- or rather hadn't -- found.
He acknowledged it, said of course nobody's ever heard of him.
He said to tell you we don't need him anymore.

He only existed in the confines of our imaginations.