A Duet

Art was long. Paul was short. Art sang the song. Paul was the sort who made one up as if from air. Paul had more gift. Art had more hair— which isn’t to take away from Arts. Many sing well if someone starts, and it robs no Simon to get paid like Paul. Along was Art’s way to be singing at all. If Paul robbed some, it’s harder revealing. What stuck in his mind, he stuck to concealing so koo-koo-ka-choo would stick in our heads. It wasn’t Garfunkel, someone said Simon said when they parted acts. Debts one forgets. Acoustic is fraught with strings over frets, taken together, taken apart. Paul lifting from life. Life lifting from Art.