Donald There were spaces between Donald and whatever he said. Strangers had forced him to live in his head. He envisioned the details of romantic scenes After midnight in the stillness of the barracks latrine. Hot love, cold love, no love at all. A portrait of guilt is hung on the wall.
Nothing is wrong, nothing is right.
Donald and Lydia made love that night. Love The made love in the mountains, they made love in the streams, They made love in the valleys, they made love in their dreams. But when they were finished there was nothing to say, 'Cause mostly they made love from ten miles away. Six O'Clock News John Prine Wanda had a baby in nineteen fifty one. The father was stranger and a stranger was the son.