I've been revising my little buggers... which isn't the idea of feverishly writing but whatever.
Ok, so here's another shitty first draft of a poem, a "musing" let's call it about a South Texas Europa.
I can't tell you what made me do it,
the gritty bar, a night like any other
where I sat underneath the neon lights,
listened to that same old song of men
left by women who are to blame
for all of life's dilemmas. I swill
cheap beer, it's bitter on my lips,
it always tastes the same. I breathe
the stale air, smoke and sour breath,
listen to more bad pick up lines:
My girl, your eyes are perdier than...
No more. I slam down my glass,
half empty now, and before the rough
man can offer to buy me a drink, ask
me to dance in a two step that leads
me nowhere but his dirty apartment. I'm gone,
left my bar stool, my heels clicking against
the wooden floor. I don't know what made
me do it that night, that night I climbed atop
the bull and grabbed the reins in one hand,
held hat in the other and closed my eyes –
The cacophony of drunks turned to
a symphony of waves, the steel guitar
to sea gulls carrying a tune, and the bull
bucking between my legs, cold underneath
my ass was white and warm, gentle flesh,
and galloped through the breezy night.
I closed my eyes and rode away, away
to a place where I was a woman who
mighty enough to name a continent after,
the one who even gods could not resist.