SAME VOICE, NEW NAME (Chapter 8)

Aurora Dispatch.
My login works.
My name doesn’t.

Neon breath on the window glass,
Skybridge glow like a camera flash,
I swipe in smooth, I play it cool,
But the roster hits me like a rule,
My seat is taken, my screen is live,
Someone else is typing how I survive,
Same shortcuts, same little phrases.
Like they stole my fingerprints from my pages.

I hear my tone in the hallway hum,
Like a ringtone I can’t outrun,
And the city smiles in LED light,
Like it’s proud of what it did tonight.

Same voice, new name
They’re wearing me like perfume in the rain
Same voice, new name
I’m on the line but I’m not in the frame
If I never existed, tell me, who’s to blame?
Same voice, new name

I pull the logs, I scroll too fast,
Every call I made is in the past,
But credited to “Operator K,”
With my cadence, my turns of phrase.
“Can you verify the dispatcher on this incident?”
The system replies: “Confirmed.”
Chrome Alley smoke in a puddle shine,
Data Spire cuts the skyline line,
And somewhere inside that mirrored glow,
A stranger’s lips move, to words I know.

I try to talk, my throat goes tight,
Like the city’s got my voice on file,
And every breath I try to claim
Comes back stamped with a different name.

Same voice, new name
They’re wearing me like perfume in the rain
Same voice, new name
I’m on the line but I’m not in the frame
If I never existed, tell me, who’s to blame?
Same voice, new name

If my voice can be copied clean,
What happens to the part unseen,
My fear, my love, my stubborn fight.
Do they copy that at night?
Or do they just need the sound?

Same voice, new name
The city sings it like a sweet refrain
Same voice, new name
I’m erased but the beat stays the same
If I scream into neon, will it remember my name?
Same voice, new name

If they can wear my voice.
they can wear my life.