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Listening to her voice

no matter who’s behind it

I’d marry that voice

If the voice intoxicates

you must not  litigate.

Imagine jumping off 

a bridge….no, that’s 

wrong, shouldn’t be in 

this poem, but, I’m not

going to take it out,

because, I’m not one 

of those.

No, intoxicating sounds,

that make you dream at 

night, or, in daylight.

“Look, Flipper wants us

to follow him!”  They don’t

call them day dreams for

nothing. That’s how we got

to Woodstock….all of us.

Which is why I’m still listening.

Inside my head….insight…

the words speak for themselves.

Listening to the music in a diner

anywhere in the USA  is my idea

of heaven…and, a good chicken 

fried steak.