with someone in mind
(Robert Earl Keen came to Park City last winter--my brother says he comes every year for his birthday in January--and it pricked, stinging of home: memoried flautas and train tracks, margaritas to-go, crowded dive bar music, "safety-clinic" cycling team pub crawls, budlight and pepperjack cheese, language lessons and,
at the concert there were too many men wearing undershirts under t-shirts, and I swear to god, Curve cologne).
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