Nashville

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Sometimes I wonder what it might feel like

to live just outside town

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in a house where folks keep night up too late

and I’d write you a song

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and lay out our lives in chorus and verse—

call up our living in a simple way.

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But I’ve never picked up a guitar. Never felt

its smooth neck in my arms

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or felt the tension go out of its strings like t

he slow chill of a summer’s end.

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I’ve heard it’s having a revival resting

on its wide river and it’s time to go.

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Sometimes, I think how it might be to buy

that spot out of town with the money

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I saved—anyone could stay the night.
And you’d look over one night like Dolly’s

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song I sing inside, imagining I wrote it
for you,​ take me back to where we started from.