Originally posted 10/12/2008; original title, “Hearing Slapbak On A Sunday.”
Invitation to Sparkle City.
The bass a friendly hand opening the door.
The groove shuffling me along to comfort
with a shout to someone unseen
to break out sweet tea and a good meal.
It’s not much — no,
it’s everything. It’s church
softer than any formal pew,
warming me top to bottom
on no more
than an ember.
Big pillow for a sad head,
holding me like a cradle I never had;
this is no offer I can ever refuse.