She stands in the
local grocery aisle,
Harsh fluorescent
lights reflecting her own words back to her
From a magazine that
she holds in her hands.
The article praises
crazy, wild girls like herself,
Adrenaline junkies
with long braids.
When I light my evening
cigarette she breaks the silence that has followed us home.
“That smell makes me
think of highways heading north, dirty shirts,
Breaking down on the
side of the road and riding the pickup horses into town.
Makes me think of
taped fingers, coffee sloshing in a cardboard cup, rock and roll music…
Just bronc rides.”
She looks at me and
we smile-
She knows I
understand.
Love it!
ReplyDeleteThanks Jen! :)
ReplyDelete