mom and dad…

A sliver of the Moon shone down ‘cross the land…wet grass glowed and golden leaves flew over lawn furniture…picnic table…a child’s swing-set…November had taken over…

And out in the beaten down barn where splinters would tear your hands upon touch…we sat there passin’ the bottle back and forth…two brothers…like in the old days…when we were kids with whiskey stolen from our dad’s liquor cabinet…talkin’ ’bout girls…football…cars…and more talk ’bout girls…

We’d talk ’bout what made ’em different from us…their bodies curved…hand-carved by God himself…what it was like to kiss one of ’em…hold ’em…talk to ’em…they sure had a different view of the world…one we didn’t quite understand…dealin’ with the emotional over the physical…talk of how they were smarter than us…they’d always be smarter than us…

So…we’d pass the bottle back and forth til it ran dry…talkin’ ’bout ex-wives…former lovers…girls we saw on the side…how nothin’ seemed to work anymore…our bodies gettin’ old…worn down…not even lookin’ anymore when a woman walked into a room…sad how life changes ya…

We walked inside the empty farm house…place where we were raised…daddy used to sit in that corner rockin’ back and forth while momma made dinner….old smells came to us…buttered cornbread…slow cooked hamhocks in pinto beans…fried okra…we’d fight over who got the last bite…then laugh when pop put his fork down…declarin’ the last piece to be his…nobody argued…

It was understood back then that we had our place…mom was queen of the house and dad was king…what they said went down as if the Lord himself was talkin’…they gave orders…we listened…

And we still listen to ’em…gone for years now…we can still hear their voices throughout the night…tellin’ us what not to do…giving us directions…talkin’ to us from Heaven…my dad sayin’, Boy…I know you stole my whiskey…, while momma just hums along…she just hums along…

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