Singing Dylan

A poem.

Singing Dylan

I had a cheap guitar
(good enough for Dylan)
and a first-rate imagination;

Dave thought he could sing,
so we hollered
The Times They Are A-Changin'

in my breezeway,
belting child rebellion
and a whole new order,

playing with such sincerity
to the green plaster wall,
when my father walked through,

reminding me I needed to finish
mowing the lawn.

Mark Rhoads

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