Dear Dude Girl,
Dear Dude Girl,
Remember when you were Five?
Eight? Seventeen? Fifty?
Looking back now, you can see how little you knew. It feels Just like it will in ten years, when you’re looking back on today.
All your great loves,
triumphs,
moments when you fell flat on your butt,
And what little you remember of your college dissertation --
they’re packed up in something smaller than a Volkswagen.
And you’re driving down the cobbled streets of life
like Mario andretti,
with not much more than an unreliable road map
drawn by a Half-blind,
trickster angel
to guide you.
Lately we’ve been asking ourselves:
“why are we doing this?”
exchanging security for truth.
voting with our feet, even if it means getting some wicked blisters.
looking in the mirror,
beyond the life-worn skin and increasing wrinkles,
And then looking right at them,
And saying a prayer of thanks for each and every one.
We bet you’re doing the same thing.
And we’re here to tell you
That we’re with you --
Down the rutted, dusty, dirt roads,
the white-hot paved highways,
In the arena, breaking some bucking, green pony,
And riding at a full gallop down the path to freedom,
We’re standing along the fence line,
Waving our hats,
stomping our boots,
cheering you on ‘til we’re hoarse.
Giddyup.
