“Dreaming of Texas”


Dreaming of Texas

A Poem by Coyote Poetry

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Good to have had danced many dances and knew a lot of laughter. A good life isn’t the money in the bank. It is the wealth of memories we have gained.

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                          Dreaming of Texas

She held my attention as I watched her dance on the Killian, Texas dance hall floor.
Her beautiful legs as long Highway 35. I remember her beautiful brown eyes, auburn hair and a smile that could steal my heart and soul with a wink.

I wasn’t looking for love or anything else. Old Poet like the good drink and the view now. I needed a break from regrets and too many promises broken.
I watched the pretty Texas girls dance and I drank my long Island slowly.
All I had left was time to figure what I truly needed.

I carry a small notebook and always took notes. I wrote down some words.
Begot
Shadows
fragrant
memory
sorrow.

I felt a presence near. I looked-up and my auburn hair beauty girl was watching me write. She introduced herself as Doreen from Austin and requested my name.
I told her my name is Johnnie. Lost Michigan man drinking the good drink of Texas.
She gave me a sweet smile and told me. Here in Texas. We don’t mix the drinks. We like the whiskey hard and men who can dance the proper two-step. No time for sad poetry here in Texas. The music is good, the night is young and you need to leave regret in the dust.

I ordered two double shots of Jack Daniels and some cold tap beer.  She was wearing a cotton blouse, two buttons free and a short skirt making me wish I was brave and crazed again. She asked are you Michigan boys willing to dance? Maybe you are scared of us Texas woman?

I told her it would be my honor to dance with her and  I do fear the Texas women. They are beautiful, dangerous and fearless ladies. A wise man need to be careful.   She smiled and told me. I like you. You are honest and direct. You are right to know some fear. When a Texas woman decide what she wants. No man is safe.

We danced the two-step and the waltz till the 2am hour approached. She told me she was going to be a nurse and wrote story. I told her I was a soldier and didn’t know nothing but paper and pen. Poetry and story was my only true goal.

I followed her back to Austin. We sat by the river drinking beer being cooled down by the Austin river.  I held her tightly as we waiting for dawn. She told me. Please Johnnie, write me a poem?

Texas nights

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