“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
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