Going to Town


“Put on your boots, girl, we’re going out.

There’s a square dance down in town.”

He stood there tall and proud,

a pillar of strength

she could always lean on,

and she loved him.

Red flannel shirt

cut in western yoke,

pearl buttons and lariat

embrace his rugged neck.

Faded jeans hung low,

held in place

by a tooled leather sculpture

of the painted Desert and MonumentValley.

He grabs her ‘round the waist.

petticoats rustling in his grip,

hugs her tightly to his chest

and plants a big one

on those luscious ruby lips.

“Girl you’re looking good tonight!

I can hardly wait to show you off.”

Lost in tunnels of Western sky,

she holds him just as tightly

under the light of a full moon.

The hay smells sweet out back.

He reaches down and slips a chaff

between his mustached lips

while she looks up above

picking out…

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