Brown Eyed Girl

BrownEyedGirl45
Brown Eyed Girl

Do you remember when we used to sing?
—Van Morrison

It’s the most downloaded, radio-
played song of the entire 1960s decade—

an undisputed rock-n-roll fact. And
in 1967, making love in the green grass

was something you did, but didn’t
sing about. Thus, the edited version

where our transistor-fired couple
in the hollow merely continued laughing

and a-running, hey, hey, behind the stadium

instead of slippin’ and slidin’

over one another like waterfalls. Last
night, I dreamed all night long

about a brown-eyed girl. She is
someone I know, but can’t name. I was

old like now, but somehow young too,
and I wanted her with all my bad heart

a-thumping, and I held her, buried
my face in that brown hair,

smelled the spring shampoo, stayed
young and happy in my dream

even after a middle-aged man’s 4:00 a.m.
pee, then woke again and rose, full

of some life that never happened, but
did, and left me too soon, all

on my own, a Saturday morning so slow
I could do nothing but sing

Sha la la la la la la la la la la la la
Dee dah la dee dah la dee dah,


always, and of course, with you.

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