When people think of poetry they typically think of soul stirring dramatic pieces by Frost, Poe, or Shakespeare. However, poetry can also be tongue in cheek and silly. In that vein, I rewrote Glen Campbell’s “Galveston” to fit my hometown, Beaverton. Enjoy.
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Subject: Interior of the Cedar Hills Crossing mall (formerly Beaverton Mall) | Date: 07/277/2011 | Photographer: Steve Morgan | This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.
I still hear your cool winds blowing,
I still see her dark eyes glowing,
She was 21 when I left Beaverton.
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Beaverton oh Beaverton,
I still hear your beer trucks crashing,
While I watch the perverts flashing,
I clean my gun and dream of Beaverton,
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I still see her standing by the Starbucks,
Standing there watching phone app TV,
And is she waiting there for me,
At the mall where we used to run.
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Beaverton oh Beaverton,
I am so afraid of dying,
Before I dry the tears she's crying,
Before I watch your small birds flying in the sun,
At Beaverton at Beaverton.
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