From a poet who has lived a good bit of his life in small towns:
That’s just Billy, or in a real small town
In a small town
everybody knows your name
and who your mama and daddy are.
When Susie dyed her hair kool-aid red
some folks laughed, some just smiled
but they all said, ”That’s just Susie”
Except Billy who called her a Kool-aid head,
she punched him in the nose
and everybody laughed, except Billy.
But when Billy moved in with Bobby Joe,
The Black kid who played football
For the high school way aback when
In that old house down the road
to raise pine trees on his daddy’s land
Susie was his best friend
Nobody got too upset
Or called them tree huggers
though they went on about saving the earth, now and then
Maybe some thought his daddy
Ought to have raised him better than that
They all said that’s just Billy
And even when Bobby Joe did a drag show
at the library nobody complained
the old ladies said he looked kinda cute
(though they had always thought so)
In a real small town they might say
Something about the city slickers’ ways
But when it happens here, they all smile and say
That’s just Billy, and he’s funny that way
And if Susie wants to wear red red hair
And take down the biggest buck
The boys will slap her on the back
And say that’s just our Susie
And watch her skin it out
In a small town, we’re raised
to mind our own business
And let Billy be Billy.
Anthony Uplandpoet Watkins 