Free Love

She was the kind of girl, that'd go
home to momma, smiling and laughing
and ever mindful of her step, as they
held hands down a street in life.

The type of girl who'd listen to heartbroken
country girls soothe her with their song;
she'd sing along like she'd known their
troubles of beer cans and regret but
she never would. Never would.

She was the girl with long, silky hair that
flowed like creeks down her back, always
light and flower-scented, and it makes me
wonder if she used an angel's perfume.

It makes me wonder if she's what an angel smells like.
Acts like.

Little girl, forever organized and on top of things,
with enough time to paint her nails as her mom
sways her hips to acoustic guitars while doing the
Dishes;
Dishes;
But the dirt would never fade away.

She'd grow up, earning perfect A's with a smile
on her face, graduate with her friends,
and find her high school sweetheart in time.
All in time, honey.

She'll get married and have children, take them
to practice, take them out for dinner, and laugh and
smile just as she did in the drab hallways we walked
together. I like to think this makes us connected.

The type of girl so contented with normal life,
I wonder if she had any dreams?

What sets this angel and I apart, is that while
she had heavenly perfume and security;
I had leather-bound mysteries, and a gun,
I sat on the highway, next to a sign blazing
"Free love" - the difference between this
girl and I, is that I knew love, and life,
could be free.