Oh magnificent Seventies,
when golden tones fudged
at the edges of our senses
and dinosaur punk rock
agriculturalists roamed the land.
A Dee Dee was a Texas Aggie
was a black shirt was a guitar
strap dangling a slicktastic bass.
My one-year-old mind
was textured with thumps
but now it's smooth and slick
from Queens, NY to College Station.
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