Faithful

Smoke cloud mixers, Bud and whisky

guitar men coaxing dirt road tunes

while cocktail bribes and leering eyes

and two-step guys test her favor.

But it ain’t here I’ll be steppin’ cause

what’s in these pants don’t give a damn

so I’ll be heading home to do my dancing

to those bluesy moonlight rhythms of you.

              ~ ~ ~

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