29. green eyes
i’m at the corner bar when
poetry takes the stool next to me
to order a proper old fashioned
with bulleit bourbon and
three door county cherries
then starts to chat up
the blonde on the other side
spilling out of a sundress and
swilling a spotted cow
she’s scrolling her iPhone for
billy ray cyrus tickets
with an impressive set of
packer bedazzled
fingernails
you’d think poetry
wouldn’t be interested in such
prosy women but
maybe i’m just jealous
of the easy way they
lean their heads together
and laugh
