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.