We stopped for gas not long ago,
Served by Gas Dock Girl, with golden skin aglow.
I pumped gas at Outlet forty years before,
Her mother worked at Elkins during the summer of seventy-four.
I looked into her eyes, it was her mother I saw.
I hid my blush, holding a hat against my cheek and jaw.
My wife asked me what could be wrong,
Just old memories dear, like a favorite song.