Sleeping With Joan Loretta hasn’t fixed the broken fences. No more doing those chores on the farm. I must have met her in a picture show. Where she kept my heart close and warm. I see them last at a local church event. She was walking out the door arm in arm. I liked them the best in an ordinary dress. Turning the mundane into memories’ charm. And when it’s hard to get through a day, I’m glad I’m behind one in the summer heat. The sidewalks feel a little bit less alone, My best days are following them on the street. I hear women say that they don’t like men, and they dress to catch each other’s eye. They give road workers an angry stare If the whistle at them as they walk by. Tonight I’ve got Joan Crawford in the queue. She is my favorite lonely late-night friend. For her flirtatious banter in Grand Hotel, I stay with her until the climax at the end.
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