Everybody has a favorite day and their own reasons for picking it. My favorite day is Saturday, when there is nothing to do and it seems like you have all the time in the world. This piece is about those Saturdays and the entirety of what that day has come to mean to me and maybe to a lot of other people.
Saturday
There are enough stories to tell on Saturday night
with the sky looking black and these tears in my eyes,
a cold beer sitting moistly beneath my radio as I
take my mind off streetlights shining warmly on
the highway
Some days I feel like traveling, leaving
pavements and screaming cars behind me on a
silent trek deep into the wilderness and some day
to disappear but on Saturday nothing’s wrong,
the cold coal stoked and laughter’s there
We’re not friends the way we were,
some married, some broke but on Saturday nothing
feels the same and the way we talk is changing,
from lies we tell about girls we love and jobs we often hate,
we change everything to chatter about football games and
tv screens, old flames and a few better days
On these Saturdays old is young again and there
is a quiet promise upon the wind, so if you’re leaving
take your keys and I will wait for you again someday when
another Saturday comes around.
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