Akimbo Dreaming
A Texas Sunday Evening
Dusty men stand, Arms crossed or Spread In dad-shorts.
Muttering about The quarterback While their Little girls leave Their hearts on The stage.
Young enough Dreaming still That the world Will all love them
Dreams dying And thriving One note At a time.
Crystal boots And blue shirts Bleat for Brown eyes And clear skies
And I wonder What future These men hope For their little girls
While the cicadas Cheer from The branches Above.
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