No, I Didn't Really Meet Jesus at a Bar

The Caboose. A old, local landmark.
In my twenties it was a rock-n-roll club, and I beleive my sisters did the disco thing there ten years prior.
It's been a fine dining restruant & a gay night club & everything in between.
I'm not sure what it is now, but I'm sure it's still there.
While most folks my age were just getting into raves, I would love to go to the Caboose.
The Caboose was dark & murky inside.
It had a musty old smell and the carpet seemed to stick to your shoes as you walked around the bar.
Most of the folks there wore black, had long hair & tattoos.
But there was always live music & a welcoming dance floor.
There, on the dance floor you could escape the murky stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke & your shoes didn't stick to the flooring.
Wound up like a towel twisted for fly swatting, I gave it all I had.
I was there to dance.
When the band breaked so did I, running to the bar & restroom.
Apparently, I cut too close to the corner of the bar on one of my trips in between songs.
I felt my hip clip something as I rounded it.
Then I saw him... flat on his back...knocked from his stool like a fly.
With his breath knocked out of him, disoriented & dazed, he muttered something and reached up.
I took hold of his hands.
He was so calm & never bug-eyed me.
He said 'What happened?'
I began with a ramble & ended in a whisper...
'I can't beleive I just knocked you down, I am so sorry.
I was walking too fast & I didn't see you.
My hip, your knee...
I am so sorry, really, I didn't see you.
And now that I do, I think you look like Jesus'

We never know how we may meet someone.

Artwork compliments of my sweet soul sister:)