Brothers (We Can Sleep When We're Dead)

So me and Bruce are wandering through the mall under the pedestrian bridge and towards the big doors that lead into the air conditioned sprawl of goods and services.  

It’s a beautiful day…bright, blue, sunny, the breeze making music with the trees and the dancing flags on their sturdy flagpoles…but the mall parking lot is sparsely populated.

Bruce was mostly in blue…denim jacket, well worn Levi’s…I was most in black.

I’m itchin’ to get back on the road…to make music and make people smile.  Bruce was always itching to get on the road…to make music with me and the boys.

We just got off the road, Bruce…we’re tired, ready for some sleep.  I knew he wasn’t gonna hear it but I had to say it anyway.

Bruce laughed the way he does as we lingered in the gun section of the mall’s biggest store.  We hefted gleaming black pistols while the kid behind the counter…the white badge on his red vest identified him as “Jimmy”…chewed gun and looked on with genuine indifference.  We can sleep when we’re dead…we’re young and dumb and we should be out makin’ girls and makin’ rock ‘n roll!

We’re not that young anymore, Bruce.  I knew he wasn’t gonna hear that but I said it anyway.

We left Jimmy and his guns and ambled over to a rack of acoustic guitars.  Bruce picked up one…beautiful golden wood…and strummed.  Bruce smiled and sang a couple of bars of “Brothers Under the Bridge”.

You don’t need no band, Bruce.  Just you and your songs and that guitar…just like the old days.

Bruce nodded.  That time he heard me.  He tossed me the guitar and picked up another one.  You and me then…just like the old days…we’ll stay up late…we’ll crisscross the country…we’ll play hard…we’ll sleep when we’re dead.  Will you ride with me, brother?

I sighed and strummed the guitar. I smiled and shook my head.  Yeah, Bruce, of course I’ll ride with you.  I can sleep when I’m dead.