a smile breaking along the groin
—Evan Kennedy
Things we all wish for. Like
acceptance and earth. For
glory. Or, if hungry, a pear,
an apple, an avocado. Or,
if really hungry, the push
of an extended belt buckle
on a dance floor. That’s no
belt buckle. After parking
each leather-clad horse,
the bumpy couple enters
a room over the saloon
that looks slept in singly.
The room sees the pair
fold and crumple, gets
a quarter night’s eye
full. And then, the
morning joins. The
audience is glued
until eleven or so
when the men dress,
retire to the saloon.
Poor noon.
