The Healthy Option

The spinach salad yearns to be something more,

to not be seen as the healthy option:

what one gets instead of fries,

or to make up for the chicken parmesan.

The green mountain

covered with crasins and walnuts and vinaigrette

wants to be a comfort food,

a reason people show up to the restaurant—

a dish that starts people salivating.

It has the vitamins and colors:

reds and yellows and whites

slightly iridescent with light bouncing

off firm leaves sprinkled with dressing.

The chef’s pour out effort onto each leaf

but their care goes unappreciated;

greenery is not exciting, not titillating—

just plain and healthy.

When it’s ordered the salad is never

what the customer had their hearts and stomachs set-on—

and unfortunately the spinach salad knows this.

Ibid, 75

Today I am a footnote. Not a pithy or interesting one—explaining some fascinating historical point that doesn’t directly relate to the thesis of the paper, but is unexpected and humorous. Not one containing any important bibliographical information either. No publishing date, or author’s name, or title, instead simply: “Ibid, 75.”

Football, The Righteous Brothers, and Bus Rides

We lost.
It was what we did. We hadn’t won a game all season,
and it was becoming increasingly clear—we weren’t going to.
We lost a game in a town an hour away,
where they cared about such things.
A freshman football game filled stands.
It was disorientating: their parents cussing at referees,
and shouting about holding and illegal procedure—like it mattered.
A freshman football game.

We lost, but we played.
Adam recovered a fumble.
Mike hit an airborne skinny-kid in the shin
and sent him into flip—it was awesome!
I had a ten-yard run, capped with a sweet stiff-arm.
Our clothes smelled like grass.
We were muddy and smiles.

The bus was background conversation,
a dull roar with intermittent laughter.
Adam stood in the aisle, started singing quiet:
“Baby, baby, I get down on my knees for you.”

The back of the bus started singing:
“bum, bum-bum, bum-bum, bum-bum-bum-bum-bum. . .”

“If you would only love me like you used do, yeah”

The rest of us joined: “Bum, bum-bum. . .” and the song picked up momentum.

We had a love, a love
a love you don’t find everyday.
So don’t, don’t
don’t let it slip away.

Mike echoed Adam.

Baby.
BABY!
I beg you please.
Ple-ease!
I need your love.
I need your love.
I need your love.
I need your love.
So bring it on back.
So bring it on back.
So bring it on back.
SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!!

The coach stood up with a scowl.
“What the fuck?! You just lost the game.
By two touchdowns, and you’re singing?
You need to think about that.
You lost, and you’re acting like you won!
Have some pride!
The rest of the way no talking. Think about why you lost.
Why do you even bother to play the game?”

I wonder if the question was pointed at us.

You're Welcome

Search the beach for flat stones,
fit them to the curve of your pointer finger.
Learn to skip.

Let your toes explore the wet moss
under drooping vine-maples.

Impersonate birds.
Practice your best jokes
on the Junko bouncing
near the park bench.

Stand with knees shaking
on exposed peaks,
write thank-you notes.

Learn to recognize hospitality.

Women's Work

When Christ’s calls a man, he bids him come and die.
-Dietrich Bonhoeffer

However,
when he calls a woman
He bids her go and find
a husband and vacuum,
to marry young, die to self and live
vicariously through spouse and children,
swallow aspirations outside the home,
to work without ceasing—to become a mother
and wife only:
to live and move and breathe
the domestic sphere.

When Christ calls a woman
He bids her be silent and dress modestly
so men will not stumble
while they preach the gospel,
proclaiming good news to the poor,
and liberating the oppressed.

Man Up!

[This is a real different style for me, I'd be interested to hear what y'all think.]

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name,

Philippians 2:9

Preacher,
define masculine, pinned down
with implicit synonyms:
Big. Athletic.
Proud—
only humble
before God.
Stoic.

Condemn
passivity as effeminate,
degenerative.

Exegete
the word
passion—trace it
back to the root.

Worship
the manly-Christ
in the mirror,
who lifted himself up.