by Jason Myers
For the girl groups of the 1960s I give you praise. Their love-haunted joy hurled, pled & pitched in perfect harmonies puts a spell on me & my light-climbed days. Ronettes, Vandallas, Shangri-Las alloy the forlorn, odd, unexpected delights of rejected boys & Saturday nights. Though their cares appear small, I hear in each aria about breaking up, going steady the sum total of what we need, why we’re made. To matter. To reach into the dark, the hurt, the dumb – knowing our failed flesh is your means of grace. You feed us music, milk, holy bread, holy blood.
Jason Myers eats strawberries for breakfast and edits EcoTheo Review. He parents and partners in central Texas where he is a candidate for holy orders in the Episcopal Church.