Just Another Day

“Play me a song,” he said, seeing us leave the restaurant with our guitars.

“We don’t have the chords,” M said.

“Play it anyway,” he replied.

And so we started, roughly. The chords came, but the words didn’t. The words came, but the chords didn’t. Eventually, both aligned. Then, we sang together the songs that stuck with us, the ones deep down. Always a surprise to see what sticks.

“Play ‘Jesus Loves Me,'” he said.

And we did. The simple, fleeting words resounded through the parking lot and into the night sky.

Soon, we were all out of songs. They thanked us. His buddy, he told me stories about Vietnam while the others mused over M’s dreadlocks.

“My leg’s all tore up. Not a leg no more,” the veteran said, “Got two purple hearts out of it, though. I have trouble sleeping sometimes. All times. God forgive me.”

And he wiped his face with a dirty napkin.

I ran into the car and pulled out the McDonalds napkins I had stored there, you know, for emergencies.

“Here,” I said.

“Thanks,” he said while using the napkin, “for listening.”

M nodded me forward and we walked together to the nearest convenience store, picking up hot dogs and beer for the guys.

“Do you have a Bible?” said the first guy. I handed him mine, “what’s the shortest verse in the Bible?”

“‘Jesus wept,'” I said.

“And where is it?” he said, “What verse?”

I told him I didn’t know. he flipped right to it.

“Saint John eleven thirty-five,” he said.

 

I nodded in amazement.

We all hugged. M and I went to our respective way.

“I’m glad you didn’t die,” M’s girlfriend told her, later.

For us, it’s just another day.

As Morning Slips in Through the Window

As morning light slips in through the window, I

slip you out of bed,

set my hand upon the small of your back

lift your hand into their air

and we begin to waltz.

We dance to tune of birds chirping at the window,

birds that have beat us to the day,

we dance

and slip out of dancing,

we take a shower and eat breakfast,

and dance some more,

we meet with friends for coffee,

go back home,

play some music,

watch a movie,

read a book

eat dinner,

watch a bit more Netflix,

spend some time alone,

meet back together again

between soft sheets,

our eyelids heavy,

our breathing still,

I kiss you-

honestly, it is an expectant kiss,

you see through all my movements,

you smile, you sigh,

we think of dancing,

we fall asleep.

The next morning, who knows?

Perhaps we will dance again.