For my Tourjete

I’m still a little mystified that you were so bothered by the group of young tourists with the video camera in the Sportsmen’s. Remember the story I told you about those three film students I ran into in Mexico on that dark night miles away from any real civilization?

So I wrote this for you… and it’ll also segue nicely into the second half of “Connecticut? Rhode Island?”


let them tell stories…

because there’s something about you

they wanted to take with them.

let yourself become a legend…

because what would they have seen?

a beautiful girl, dressed to kill,

(“at least for this bar”)

having a great time,

dancing like she knew what she was doing,

(“and she looked good”)

but not with every guy,

but simply with one

(“he was dashingly handsome”)

tattooed man,

who did an unexpected rendition

of Rocky Racoon,

a song that the DJ said

no one had picked since he started

karaoke in the ("dark and smoky") Southern Utah

(“dive”) bar.

and what they create from there,

is the stuff that stories are made of.