Goodman's Shoes

Goodman’s Shoes It’s many years since Goodman died, my hair has shaded gray. I’ve lost so many memories; I still recall that day My father died 4 years later; the only coping tool I had was a turntable and vinyl spinning ‘My Old Man’ Even though he asked me to, I never learned to dance. With somebody else's troubles, I’d lose sleep at night I never rode the southbound odyssey when I had the chance. On an empty stage, no one stands in Goodman’s shoes tonight. Penny Evans to Cindy Sheehan; history replays. The same old story - guns and glory - just a different face A yellow coat and old love letters beneath the attic fan near a turntable and vinyl spinning ‘My Old Man’ I miss my old man tonight; I miss Goodman too. I can’t hear them anymore, despite my longing to Polaroids and vinyl records are poor legerdemain. Goodman will not grace the stage; I’ll not see Dad again