Dear Jackson Browne

Dear Jackson Browne,

As your biggest fan, I want you to know,

That although I truly love you so,

The times you came to my town,

I felt totally let down,

From the words you let recklessly flow.

That my admiration began with “Doctor My Eyes,”

Should really come as no surprise,

As it received great radio play,

In the 70s, back in the day,

Years before I was older and wise.

In high school, when I barely knew your name,

People magazine shared the story of your fame,

And, of a wife gone so young,

Leaving with you a wee son,

Your life would never be the same.

Another woman came your way,

Adding a second son to the fray,

Though her motives were wrong,

Perhaps worth a song,

It was a relationship not meant to stay.

Sometime around 1986,

More of your work was added to my mix,

When I first heard “Late for the Sky,”

I finally understood why,

My marriage was not fit to fix.

In the genre of California folk,

Your contribution will never be considered a joke,

Among the artists of the Laural Canyon scene,

Like the Eagles, the Byrds, and CSN with sounds so clean,

To my heart, it was your lyrics that spoke.

From “Fountain of Sorrow” to “The Pretender,”

All are songs to remember,

Like “Running On Empty,”

And “Somebody’s Baby,”

“In The Shape Of A Heart,” powerful words you did render.

Fan girl aside,

The pain in my heart I can’t hide.

Because back when whole albums were heard,

People listened closely, hanging on to every word,

As your lyrics came through like a guide.

Your later work was also great,

Something to which I could relate,

“Lives in the Balance” explained to your fans,

How misguided were President Reagan’s anti-communist plans,

Since U.S. involvement in Central America was based on hate.

Finally, the day would arrive,

When I would actually get to see you perform live,

Although my seat wasn’t fine,

Your voice was divine,

But your comments made my heart take a dive.

When you chose to criticize our city,

Few in the audience found it witty,

At the Hard Rock Hotel’s music venue, The Joint,

You crudely made your harsh point,

Your disdain for Las Vegas was a pity.

Perhaps you thought only tourists were there,

Then again, maybe you just didn’t care,

But for those who call Las Vegas home,

We collectively let out a groan,

The rude comments you made were foolish to share.

The final time I saw you play,

For the best seats I did pay,

It was at the Smith Center downtown,

Again, your comments made me frown,

When more criticisms of Las Vegas you did say.

Even if Las Vegas is not your scene,

The way you blasted our town went well beyond mean,

And from my box seat I wanted to yell,

We’re all locals here, Dumbbell,

Because a spoiled reputation is hard to redeem.

Beyond the bright lights and architecture so fake,

Dwell suburbanites with a living to make,

We don’t need your pity,

Because we live in Sin City,

Yet your cruel comments hit our hearts like a stake.

If I may offer some advice,

Which will not come out nice,

When you greet your audience on stage,

Their mood you should gage,

As hurtful comments are a bad roll of the dice.

Still my love for your voice,

Has left me no choice,

But to share what’s on my mind,

So, in the future you’ll be kind,

Wishing you the best, your biggest fan, Joyce

© Joyce O’Day 2023. All Rights Reserved.

AI was NOT used in the creation of this poem.