I sat shotgun
in a country western so nostalgic
I can hear your boots click
down the gilded road
towards southern hospitality
but our paperback romance
don't need no pick up line
because I fell head over heels
into the back of your truck
while counting the shooting
stars in your eyes
and years have passed since
we sat under those arches,
letting gauzy smoke trail behind our lives
but you left your carcinogens
in my lungs like the hope for redemption
the second time around
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