A month devoted to love should include a look at physical love. Back in the days before Studly and I were married I enjoyed nothing more than dancing to country Western music. It wasn’t my preferred listening genre, that honor went to rock, but when it came to dancing, nothing could compare to a good Texas 2-Step, or even better, a waltz.
Anytime the DJ played “Love on a Hot Afternoon” by country artist Gene Watson I had a physical need to be on the dance floor. I always melted to the fiddle playing in this homage to hot, sweaty sex. Ok, who wants to dance?
(Even if you aren’t a fan of Country music, listen through to the end. That fiddle is swoon-worthy.)
Love on a Hot Afternoon
From somewhere outside, I hear a
Street vendor cry “filet gumbo”
From my window I see him, going
Down the street and he don’t know
That we fell right to sleep
In the damp tangled sheets so soon
After love in the hot afternoon
Now the bourbon street lady,
Sleeps like a baby in the shadows
(in the shadows)
She was new to me, full of mystery,
But now I know (but know I know)
That she’s just a girl,
And I’m just a guy, in a room
Full of love in the hot afternoon
We got high in the park,
This morning and we sat, without talkin’
Then she came back here,
In the heat of the day, tired of walkin’
Where under her breath,
She hummed to herself a tune
Of love in the hot afternoon
Praying for Eyebrowz 