Soul Games

“It isn’t hard to

have a little soul.

All you need is a

something to tap

your toes to,” said the DJ in

a deep and wide baritone.

“A beat that makes

your hips sway,

A rhythm that makes

your head bob.

A bass you feel all over,” he continued

in his chasm like voice.

“You’ll find your soul

in there.  

Bouncing off the walls

of your groove house,” smiled the DJ.

I got up from my seat and

listened for my soul. I could

usually hear it in “Try a Little

Tenderness”, or, “Land of 1000

Dances”, or even, “Shake your

Groove Thing”.

My “groove house” was vacant.

My soul was being quiet, it seems

he was smoking out in the alley,

talking with the other old souls about

Frank, Buddy and Gary Cooper and

trying to be 1958 cool.

“Get back in here,” I shouted through

a cracked bar room window.

He ignored me, waved me off without

looking my direction. He blew thick

blue smoke into the air.

“I promise not to get too funky,” I said.

My soul turned and looked at me, with

almost pity on his face.

“Okay, okay, no funkiness,” I said.

My soul smiled and dropped his smoke

to the alley, mashed it with his shoe.

Little did my soul know, that everything

was going to be funky.  And in my soul’s

soul. I knew he’d dig it.