Meet Me at Our Spot

I’ve had this song on the top of my playlist on replay. I think what I like so much about the song is the importance of that special place we share with a friend, sister, lover, and self.

Meet Me at Our Spot

When I close my eyes

I‘m under the apple tree 

on my grandparents’ farm.

A patchwork quilt beneath me,

bubble clouds above.

Or,

I’m on the seventh hole,

moonlight drapes across

our outstretched legs,

my hand in yours.

We contemplate 

futures we’ll never share.

If I close my eyes

I see the cement steps 

of the Methodist church,

where fireflies are flickering,

where we plan fantasy worlds,

where we crack ourselves up 

for no apparent reason.

Or

I’m on the blacktop.

Boys and basketballs 

dot the sidelines.

I dribble, drive, defend…

You in your sweat soaked shirt 

and glistening skin-

I can run this court for hours.

When I close my eyes

we are seated at our 

usual table

ordering our usual items,

you: the fish and chips

me: the chowder.

It’s ritual but finite.

Or

I’m in our favorite diner

sitting shoulder to shoulder,

a booth for four

now accommodating six.

We whisper sacred secrets,

admit to our demons battles,

and laugh way too loudly.

We say we come for the flat whites 

which we cup between our hands, 

but really we come to stave off boredom 

and to remain relevant.