If You’ll Allow It

You can hear the sound of this machine working
– you know you can –
if you’re as old as me,
and grew up in a small Midwestern town,
she was an occasional reality.
We heard about newfangled ways of serving others,
but what we had was good enough.
We understood how to fix her, simple trial and error,
no fuss or awkward searching – some days a little pat on the bottom, or the sweet whisper of, “come on baby” and she’d spring to life.
I smile because she was a dinosaur in the 80s,
yet we were proud.
Seems there is still plenty of good happening right here,
if you’ll allow it.



Good-bye Texas
I’m driving north
Nebraska bound
Towards a Throwback
Aksarben Vacation
Ready Set Go
Fields of green
Corn growing
All welcoming me home
Midwest community
Full of cowboys
Hired hands
White collar
Many wives and mothers
All the best of friends
Each one
The best of America’s breed
I can’t wait to begin
The transition of feeling
At home and complete
With extended family
Simple redheaded lady
Not much does she need
Just this small town
1, 200 childhood friends
To hug and greet

I’d take you
I think you’d fit in easily
We’ll take nothing too seriously
Over coffee maybe have
Deep conversations
About politics, weather and war
Some of them eyeing you
New person full of strange behaviors
You’d see the beauty
As we walk down main street
Spend evenings by the creek
Bottles of Jim Beam
Making memories
I’d show you