“Ain’t no
sunshine when she’s gone.”
Noonday diner, lunchtime crowd.
Under talking and laughing Bill Withers sings the blues
“It’s not warm when she’s away”
A hush falls over rows of black men
Sitting at faded yellow and white Formica tables
Standing in line, waiting for their food
“Ain’t no
sunshine when she’s gone.”
It starts as
a murmur, a prayer
One man in
the corner begins to hum along
“And she’s
always gone too long.”
Remembering
some past pain,
The lost
loves, the missing friendsThey begin to mouth words…
Eyes closed, head nodding.
“Any time
she goes away”
Like cicadas chanting
On a southern
night ,The room begins to throb
With the chorus
“I know, I know, I know, I know, I know,
Oh I know, I know, I know, I know, I know”
Collective
wisdom, recognized pain
A weary
prayer.As the song changes
The men go back to
Their sweet tea and memories.
~
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