Enough For Her

She loved him…

his irreverence…
his humor…
the sly glances he gave her at work when he thought no one else was looking.
He had that “bad boy” charm about him… it swirled and spiraled and pulled her down into a whirlpool.  She couldn’t keep her head above the water.  Insane thoughts of gulping down his essence until she drowned seemed logical.
He was a dreamer.
He had a smile that teased and promised… and she would follow him forever.
To the ends of the earth.
Strangely enough…
to the high plains of Wyoming.
To Bosler, Wyoming.
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I don’t know that for a fact… but how else do you end up in Bosler, Wyoming?  Elevation 7074… no population given.
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Bosler has become more than a wide spot in the road since Ten Sleep’s Jalan Crossland wrote his song about it.
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Every trip to Laramie makes me laugh, because of “Bosler”.
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It’s Jalan’s irreverence and storyline that makes giggles bubble out…
I’m not good enough to insert the music of “Bosler” here, but you really should listen to it!
The words are:

Bosler

by Jalan Crossland

Well, I write you this letter from my downtown apartment
Pray you’ll receive it before I am gone
Says I’m goin’ out west just soon as I’m able
And I’se kind of hopin’ you might come along

There’s something that’s calling me when I am sleeping
Or locked in the bathroom at work getting stoned
It tells me I’m lonesome and hard as I’m tryin’
This Emerald City don’t feel like my home

And I dream of a trailer in Bosler, Wyoming
With tires on the roof, dear, and you by my side
And we could watch Flintstones and draw unemployment
As I dream of Bosler when I close my eyes

I picture you holding your Harlequin novel
Gettin’ baked like a pot pie in the afternoon sun
While I fix the fan belt that goes to the engine
Of the ’69 Pinto that don’t ever run

And dirty-faced children, come ten, come twenty
The fruit of our loins and the tubes we ain’t tied
They play in the street and they don’t ask for money
’Cause in Bosler, Wyoming there ain’t much to buy

And I dream of a trailer in Bosler, Wyoming
With tires on the roof and you by my side
We could pitch horseshoes and stray cats on Sunday
As I dream of Bosler when I close my eyes

And the wind may blow, the rain may pitch
The TV may blare while the neighbors all bitch
But we’ll have it made in the shade as we lay
On our hideaway mattress that lives in the couch

I dream of a trailer in Bosler, Wyoming
With tires on the roof, dear, and you by my side
We can have hot wings and bourbon for breakfast
As I dream of Bosler when I close my eyes

I write you this letter from my lime green apartment
Pray you’ll receive it before I am gone
Says I’m goin’ out west as soon as I’m able
And I’se kind of hopin’ you might come along

Created on June 29, 2008 19:49:23 by Doughboy1965
Just in case, I’ll save you a step when you google Bosler, Wyoming, one of the hits
 encourages things to do in Bosler.  Really?  Honestly.

Gotta love those “enriching cultural things” to do in Bosler!  and I’m kinda thinkin’ there
could be lots of “volunteer” opportunities there.
If nothing else, go to Youtube and enjoy all things Jalan…
and smile!
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Life was not like what she has envisioned all those many years ago.  Her body was aged
and stretched and faded… her hair as limp as the cold spaghetti left sitting in the bottom of
 a pan in the sink… her dream house banged and rattled and whistled in the incessant
 wind…
But when he walked into the room, his sideways glance skimmed her body and saw what
used to be.  His smile promised the world.  The “bad boy” glint was still in his eye and his
humor still glowed around her, buoyed her up.  His touch still could lead her anywhere,
nowhere.  It lead her to Bosler, Wyoming.  That was enough for her.
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