Saturday mornings she drives
down the coast to Andre’s.
He talks her into highlights then
slowly turns her blond.
She likes how his cut makes her feel sexy.
She drives the brown hills for hours,
running through the gears,
pushing the little roadster
through the curves.
Near Escondido,
she parks in front of a cantina.
Chalupas and squash gorditas
with guac and salsa picante.
Rosie and the Screamers
and a stuffed horse in the bar.
Wine margaritas and pitchers of beer.
Giddyup.
She wakes in a small room,
a stranger beside her,
a foul taste in her mouth.
else.
Barry Basden lives with Bean, his little rescue terrier, in the Texas hill country where, among other things, he drinks good wine and occasionally writes.
No comments:
Post a Comment