Khaki Shorts

Eyes watering against the dust
The landscape is different but the clouds look the same
Shapes that change and slide and sway
All of summer's grass stays golden
Here in my thoughts of home and khaki shorts
The malice came with knowledge
But our ignorance kept us excited and kind
and we knew there was nothing wrong
When we felt ourselves slide and sway
wearing nothing but Khaki shorts
At night we would lie on our backs with cigarettes
listening to the distant music
a wild guitar and the voice of a poet
with lyrics of love and questions of reason

With our cocks hanging out the legs of our khaki shorts

Here the memory gets distorted
Summer must of ended, you must have left in a rage
I must have met the Italian
barrel chested with the darkest of eyes
Did you keep the letters I wrote?
I didn't keep yours

And now the dust rolls over us in this african desert
And I can't possibly wear anything but Khaki shorts
and I think of you...

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