Outlaw on a TV Screen

I said
'come on cowboy,
make your move'

he had hesitation
down to a
frustrating science

it was too late
for either of us
to act like we didn't
want to

like we didn't
have skin
under all that leather

and up in heaven
devils masquerading as angels
were just as naked

I had a bag full of my sins
and a gun
hidden under the mattress
I'd show it all to him
if he would only ask

somewhere a guitar screamed
with throat singers
crooning the stories
of our ragged love
to indifferent audiences

the bird of the morning
was looking for us
as our bodies
slid against sweat slicked
coves pitched in the sheets

I would liked to have
abused my hands
on the sharp edges
of his Hollywood smile

smoked all the cigarettes
in the world
just to have that hoarse voice
trip over me in the night

just to ride that big black mare
over to him
kicking up rippling dust
on the edge of some
tricking sky

like some gun-slinging outlaw
in an old black and white Western
glittering on the TV screen
the only source of light in the room

and they said 'tell us your name'
and three of them were dead
before they hit the ground
'that's my name.'

I thumbed the hammer back
and the bullet clicked into place
I slipped my other hand into my panties
I licked my lips


And I said,
'come on cowboy,
come on.'