We were crazy young

We were crazy young.

And it was crazy hot outside

that little Baptist church

on the muddy-red Red River, 

that little church surrounded

by trucking firms and

mechanic shops. We raced

through the ceremony, 

I have to admit it’s something

of a blur, but with the wedding

at 5 and reception at 5:10, and 

we were welcome to stay 

for the revival at 7, it’s no surprise

it seemed to blur on us.

We didn’t stay for the revival at 7.

And life happened: moving and 

working and oil embargoes and 

children and we built our own house

once and somehow 45 years have 

passed, that blur again, but I would

gladly go back to that red-brick church

beside the brick-red river and marry

that girl all over again.

We’re still crazy young.