my hair everywhere as I lugged bags along,
my face flushed from hurrying,
and my breathing loud and raspy.
But I will never be seen like that in Texas.
Because George Strait lives in Texas.
A friend saw him once at Gate 29 of Dallas-Fort Worth.
He is so nice, she said, and to prove it,
she handed me a picture.
George Strait had his arm around her. He was smiling.
I struggled so to share her happiness.
Though that was years ago, I believe that unending faith
precedes glittering possibilities.
I believe that the world is basically good,
and so I am certain that one day
I will just happen to run in to George Strait in Texas.
Maybe he'll be buying the Dallas Morning News at a Circle K.
Maybe as I'm having a salad, he'll walk into the same cafe,
like an ordinary person, and order a medium Diet Coke.
Each time I am in Texas,
my hair shines radiant,
I won't allow dark thoughts to mar my face even for an instant,
my hat has been steamed and re-shaped,
my clothes are smooth and coordinated,
and I am never rushed.
Once as we dined alongside the Riverwalk in San Antonio,
my husband smiled at me and said, "You sure are pretty."
"Thanks honey," I said, "but do you really mean it,
or are you just saying that?"
"I really mean it," he said.
I removed my sunglasses and searched his face
in the evening light,
but I couldn't tell if he really meant it.
In any case, I glanced around very discreetly to see
if anyone else (maybe a country western singer)
shared his sentiment. Just in case, I reminded
myself to sit up straight.
No way.
You'll never see me looking frazzled
or the least bit scuzzy in Texas.
Whether we drive through Dalhart, visit Fort Worth
for a few days, take in a Rangers game,
or whether I have a brief layover at Houston-Hobby,
I believe that one has to be prepared
for whatever Texas has to offer.
Sometimes as the plane glides over that vast, plain state,
above scattered herds of horses, I can see the luster
sparkling off their broad backs like intense hope and I am
reassured that dreams can blossom without any urging on our part.
This poem is so funny. I think that it also gives little white lie that Cory was talking about in response to my blog post. I remember when I was a beer guy and I caught a glimpse of a few stars. I even had the opportunity to even talk to a playmate. Yes, a playmate. No, I did not do anything stupid. It was so funny. I don’t smoke and I carried a lighter because when I would deliver to the airport I was not allowed to go in. So I would have wait outside for the people at the account to come out and then come back with my paperwork. I knew after a while that people would come outside to smoke and did not have lighters due to the fact that you were not allowed to carry them on the plane. I carried it to help people out. I never new that I would end up lighting a playmates cigarette while waiting outside and be able to see her portfolio. I never got her name though. I do remember her face and the issue that she was in. Later the airport revised the rules and drivers were allowed into the airport. I was then able to see Jessica Simpson, Deion Sanders, and Ashley Simpson. I saw the Simpson sisters at different times.
ReplyDeleteYea it does possess a small white lie. And to talk about seeing famous people, i've caught my fair share. My uncle is a hall of fame baseball manager, so i've been lucky enough to meet some legends in baseball such as Brooks Robinson and Cal Ripken Jr. Also, at my old bar-tending job, my boss was Pat Green's son's Godfather. We got to see a lot of Pat and his family. He once came over and cooked steaks for us all day and partied by the pool. Another is Jimmy Buffet. My dad use to be really good friends with him for quite a while. And last off, I work part time private security for concerts so i've met people like Kanye West, Taylor Swift, Rhianna, Raschal Flatts and a bunch others. I think Erick still has me beat though with Jessica Simpson. Lucky!
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