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They don’t know, girl
The young ones
For all they know
You’re just the crazy lady
Married to the dude
Who puts butt cream under his eyes
(Not on his butt)
Or they might catch you
Making out with Kevin Costner
On the Oxygen Channel
And making another thousand bucks
For Dolly Parton
But I know
Legs that were longer
And straighter than flagpoles
If not especially endowed with rhythm
At least fifteen extra teeth
And songs that may or may not
Have made any sense
On topics like adultery
And first love
The magic of childhood
And masturbation
Whoo!
Next time I see you sweat
I hope it’s because
You’re holding that long note
And not because
You’re jonesing.

