SWEET YOUNG THING 121511 - SOLITARY WALK

James Michael Taylor

SWEET YOUNG THING

He lays out a freshly-pressed Arrow
Clean socks and his new underwear
He brushes his teeth with tooth paste
It seems there’s a charge in the air
And he thinks about that Sweet Young Thing
And how she trembled the night before

He breaks out a deodorant soap bar
He bathes and he washes his hair
As he dries off, he shivers a little
As he thinks where he’s going from there
And he thinks about that Sweet Young Thing
And how he trembled the night before

His shirt ripples with every muscle
He pulls on his highest-heeled boot
And his heart skips a beat as he buckles his belt
He picks the lint off his suit
And he thinks about that Sweet Young Thing
And what she promised the night before

His pants seem too tight as he puts out the cat
And turns out the light
And the start of the engine sends shivers
Up his spine as he faces the night
And he thinks he loves that Sweet Young Thing
How they trembled the night before

Yeah, he walks to the door and he pauses
He swallows. He fingers his hair
Feels a flush as he touches the knocker
Then he waits. There’s a sting in the air
And he can almost taste that Sweet Young Thing
And he trembles like the night before

His eyes reflect only a doorway
Then, his hopes and his fears, they collide
And, if you painted a freshly tossed salad
That’s what ge would look like inside
And confusion and anger seem to entwine
Like they did, the night before

He swallows. He knocks, this time, harder
In a sweat, he unbuttons his coat
He turns and he heads for the sidewalk
Then he stops. He must leave her a note
And he thinks about that Sweet Young Thing
And how she trembled the night before

Like oatmeal, the words stick together
In his mind, the clear pictures come hard
His fountain pen shakes out it’s message
On the back of a fresh business card
He wants to tell that Sweet Young Thing,
It’s alright, and maybe more

Quickly, his eyes search the mail box
For a place that’s almost out of view
And she found it the following Wednesday
And she cried when she read, “I love you.”
And sometimes he remembers that Sweet Young Thing
And he rambles, like before…

(c) 2002 Royal T Music

This story came out of a night after the music was finished at The Montana Mining Company in Midland when the wait staff, mgr, Jon McCabe and I got into giving each other foot rubs, and I and a waitress ending up in the car in the parking lot making promises about ’tomorrow night.” Not long after that I was playing Shenanigans and got a call from Peggy Mitchell. THAT “foot rub” lasted for 28 years.

Harry Nass, Peggy’s sister, Cathy’s husband plays keys.