Yes, Every Time Is Fun

It’s the end of LAX. My right hand is griped on a strong iron beam so I can reach all the way out to the fourth row. Suddenly, the monitor I’m standing on kicks out from under me. I swing to the side, too far for my fingers to hold my weight. I crash, my back impaling on the vocal wedge. The sharp pain is quick; the throbbing ache lingers. Five kids in the front row loose their strength trying to damn the rest of the crowd back. Human sweat wave, I’m buried.

Under the kids, I look for the mic. “Hey, friend”, I think when I spot it pop out from under my left shoulder. I pull it to my mouth and keep the song going. The kids organize around me. There’s no separation from floor to stage anymore. We resemble a whirlpool, where in the center you can get some mic time. Kids begin to dog pile for that time.
Yes, every time is fun.

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