Bartender!

James Dean – that’s all I heard at first – all I got

From the conversation at the diner. But she never said James Dean.

She was talking about cactus oil or some natural beauty product –

But the James Dean poster hanging behind her head took me away.

Such a sweet distraction, a breath of fresh air.

His smile and hair stole my mind for a while because

That’s who you were in my imaginative series

That played in my dreams when the sun went down.

 

Later that night, in a different diner – not a diner – a musky bar.

Bob Dylan quietly bled from the speakers.

The boy sitting beside me, who never cared for Dylan,

Was chatting with his bros and buying me drinks

When he disappeared.

You were beside me now, sounding like Rhythm and Blues,

Drinking out of a boot, you sang “Paws off my brewsky, woman!

Bartender! Get this young lady a beer!”

And I giggled, intoxicated, but not from the alcohol.

Anticipating you to get handsy like you once warned me

Would recklessly happen if I sat beside an old man at a bar.

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