Keystone/Silhouette (Close Orbit)

A somber, rainy-night bluesy piano melody, precise as a clock tick, A low, weary cello, Call and Response

(Fixer)
I met a weeping banshee down at the galvanized mill,
Her grievance wasn’t spectral, it was overtime and bills.
I smoothed it with the foreman, with a favor and a nudge,
And thought of how you’d frame it in a paragraph that judged.
You’d quote the code on wailing in a residential zone,
I just got her weekends quiet and a half-claim to the loan.
We solve the same damn problem, you and I,
With different kinds of silence, beneath the same grey sky.

(Bureaucrat:) We are the balance and the breach,
(Fixer:) The practice and the preach.
(Bureaucrat:) I am the lock…
(Fixer:) And I’m the turning key…
(Bureaucrat:) I am the map…
(Fixer:) I’m the territory…
(Both)
The reason that the city dares to sleep…
Is the promise that we both are doomed to keep.

(Bureaucrat)
One Selkie tried to franchise in a district zoned for food.
I cited fire safety, public health, and public good.
It threatened legal action from an ancient throne.
I… may have left a file for you where precedents are known...
A tacit recognition that the system can be rocked.
Next day, the Selkie “voluntarily” withdrew.
My hands stayed clean. I wondered if you knew… 
(Both)
That I knew…

(Fixer)
Your “misfiled” folder saved me three nights of ugly work,
I paid the debt in turn by making a vampire's clerk
"forget" the missing signatures in the water district’s lease.
A problem never surfaced for your clean release.
We trade in erasures, in the things we don’t confess,
Building a cathedral from our mutual mess.
(Both)
The closest we come to a tender word
Is a threat that goes unheard, a crisis deferred.

(Bureaucrat:) I audit the chaos. You… 
(Fixer) administer it.
You build the cage. I...
(Bureaucrat:) teach things to fit.
(Fixer:) It’s not collaboration.
(Bureaucrat:) It’s efficient.
(Fixer:) It’s expensive.
(Both)
The cost is buried in the budget, line by line.
The cost is carried in the soul. In yours and mine.

(Bureaucrat:) He’s in my ledger. Codename Contingency.
(Fixer:) She’s in my contacts. Just “The Authority.”
(Both)
We’ll never share a coffee. Never break the bread.
We share the weight of every unsung, unmourned dead.
(Bureaucrat:) My successor will inherit a perfect, ordered shelf.
(Fixer:) Mine inherits wars I fought through by myself.
(Both)
And the city… never wonders why it’s whole…
It just sleeps…
Between my body and your soul.

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(Bureaucrat) My office overlooks the river of the law, Where every dream must pause and fill out forms I saw. I trace the lines of jurisdiction, black and white and clear, And sometimes, in the silence, I almost feel you here… A ghost of a solution, slipping through my door, A problem I can’t file, a case with no rapport. I stamp it “Closed – No Action,” but the echo of your fix Lingers like a shadow in the mortar of the bricks. (Fixer) I met a weeping banshee down at the galvanized mill, Her grievance wasn’t spectral, it was overtime and bills. I smoothed it with the foreman, with a favor and a nudge, And thought of how you’d frame it in a paragraph that judged. You’d quote the code on wailing in a residential zone, I just got her weekends quiet and a half-claim to the loan. We solve the same damn problem, you and I, With different kinds of silence, beneath the same grey sky. (Bureaucrat:) We are the balance and the breach, (Fixer:) The practice and the preach. (Bureaucrat:) I am the lock… (Fixer:) And I’m the turning key… (Bureaucrat:) I am the map… (Fixer:) I’m the territory… (Both) The reason that the city dares to sleep… Is the promise that we both are doomed to keep. (Bureaucrat) One Selkie tried to franchise in a district zoned for food. I cited fire safety, public health, and public good. It threatened legal action from an ancient throne. I… may have left a file for you where precedents are known... A tacit recognition that the system can be rocked. Next day, the Selkie “voluntarily” withdrew. My hands stayed clean. I wondered if you knew… (Both) That I knew… (Fixer) Your “misfiled” folder saved me three nights of ugly work, I paid the debt in turn by making a vampire's clerk "forget" the missing signatures in the water district’s lease. A problem never surfaced for your clean release. We trade in erasures, in the things we don’t confess, Building a cathedral from our mutual mess. (Both) The closest we come to a tender word Is a threat that goes unheard, a crisis deferred. (Bureaucrat:) I audit the chaos. You… (Fixer) administer it. You build the cage. I... (Bureaucrat:) teach things to fit. (Fixer:) It’s not collaboration. (Bureaucrat:) It’s efficient. (Fixer:) It’s expensive. (Both) The cost is buried in the budget, line by line. The cost is carried in the soul. In yours and mine. (Bureaucrat:) We are the balance and the breach, (Fixer:) The practice and the preach. (Bureaucrat:) I am the lock… (Fixer:) And I’m the turning key… (Bureaucrat:) I am the map… (Fixer:) I’m the territory… (Both) The reason that the city dares to sleep… Is the promise that we both are doomed to keep. (Bureaucrat:) He’s in my ledger. Codename Contingency. (Fixer:) She’s in my contacts. Just “The Authority.” (Both) We’ll never share a coffee. Never break the bread. We share the weight of every unsung, unmourned dead. (Bureaucrat:) My successor will inherit a perfect, ordered shelf. (Fixer:) Mine inherits wars I fought through by myself. (Both) And the city… never wonders why it’s whole… It just sleeps… Between my body and your soul.

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