Once I was a Cowgirl
(originally written in 1990, or thereabouts
and things have changed a bit since then!)
Once I was a cowgirl
wearing tight jeans
permeated with the honest scent
of the sweat
of my red-headed pony.
My dress boots were the color of
desert sand, my work
boots of red cowhide, they had
roper heels and I drove a green
Chevy pickup.
I tied my hair in a thick braid
It hung to my ass and swayed
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNB9SZlLgTGNhW_Hb0KwiEVOoJGUsr0BqsN9KEams7o58JbdJjJ1Qmm0doWvK2SqzXPnXd8ZhbmFyla_8boTxYfAIfh8JOMoQY7BD8pkCb-MuuCjOc0kN_Ib9wTSr9O2BVJSWhO1ZgCEgG/s1600/GusLearning.jpg)
carrying my cue stick to the bar
for a long cool one.
The cue was handmade.
I never had to use it to claim my quarter
from the guy in the black stetson.
I shot an okay game, but
sometimes
I was just so hot.
Now I work with computers
I can't drink beer
and I go to bed at ten.
There are no coyotes here
my cue stick stands
warped in a closet.
I still have my name belt though.
It's handmade too, the deep hand-tooled roses
tinted a dusty red.
Backed in gold suede, backstitched white
my name carved in bas relief across the back
my initials in the tongue.
JLK
This poem is a kind of bhavana, bringing me back home to horses and sweat and who knew the desert sand boots would become the real desert sand of the Sonoran desert?
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