Sounds like a lonesome country song
about a cowboy crying in his beer
over the fickle girl who left–
blond curls and an old Ford truck
rattling down the highway
and out of his heart.
She let her apron
catch the breeze and blow away
so now you’ll have to cook
for yourself, cornbread that will
never taste the same,
which brings the chorus back to you,
there on your barstool, all alone.
It makes me almost sad
to remind myself that
Tillie’s gone to Texas
was what the neighbor said
when I asked about his funny dog
who used to keep me company on walks.
But he promised
she’ll be back come spring
unlike your Tillie, cowboy,
who is gone for good.
