My favorite color then was Jesus.
Everyone wanted the little flags my stepfather
fashioned from the white feathers of black eagles.

We cheered when the smelter stacks were razed,
despite the implosion of jobs, and Uncle Bob made
French toast and sang a song about roast beef.

On Tenth Avenue, the contrast of white
on purple disallowed for yellow
submarines.
                    Gentlemen, please stand.
It’s ten o’clock, you’re on,
but no Beatles songs, please, no stereos.
Happy birthday, Ronny. Tee up!

I was the kind of kid who wore a clip-on tie.
My girlfriend was a room full of music videos.
I was shy. It was Great Falls. Here, start a club.