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.