I said to my son, “Just me, the dog, some spirits, and a guitar tonight.”

He said, “That sounds like a song.”

I guess it could be if I wasn’t rhythmically illiterate,
Only aware of how these strings
Are killing my fingers.
Not whining, I know it will get better…

But the stumps sure feel nice
Against this glass filled with ice
And the most ghostly water that could be drawn
From the knobbiest Kentucky creek.

So tonight my dog and I hang alone.
I might try to learn these chords
Or I might just listen to the iPod,
Blue Mother Tupelo sounds about right.

Now they’ve got some songs…