Oh Country Girl, dressed in your frilled white skirt
at this year's Riverfest, in calf-high boots,
whose boyfriend wears a rebel flag and hoots
for the fat man dancing without his shirt--
Whose shoulder-length, loosely curled hair cascades
in dark brown waves around your pillared throat,
whose black lace thong shows through (I think you know't)
that cotton ruffle of much lighter shade--
I wonder, when you go home burnt and tired,
and drunk too, maybe, on four-dollar beers,
with Dwight Yoakum echoing in your ears,
and wander toward the shower, hot and wired--
As you peel yourself out of that black thong--
will you and I be humming the same song?
1 comment:
I absolutely adore this one.
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