He smiles like a beautiful
chord change you know
should’ve happened all along.
I tell him I’ve known his work
for years. I want to, but don’t,
say how many friends I’ve lost,
how they’ve utterly disappeared.
I also fail to mention, as he likely
forgets me, how, in the 80s, I was
pretty as well, how I played tunes
for women who also loved Jesus,
how he and I (and Jesus)
had the same beautiful hair.
2 comments:
" I want to, but don’t,
say how many friends I’ve lost,
how they’ve utterly disappeared."
Amen. Check, check, and doublecheck.
Last line made me laugh, and check my hairline.
in my rented house, there is now a signed copy of the original "Michael W. Smith Project" on vinyl thanks to a student chaplain friend who turned our thrift store joke into a house relic.
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