the pair she wears on the original
cover of My Wicked Wicked Ways

bloody red lips shape into her
the-world-is-my-oyster smile

black spaghetti strap dress
pulls up high over crossed legs

an almost empty glass of merlot
stands at her dainty booted feet

boots with white stitching
crisscrossing Mexican black
leather like intricate tattoos on a
one-eyed bartender’s bicep

boots that i can hear
crunching the gravel
and broken glass in
the parking lot of
a Texas cantina at
3 am on a Sunday
morning and a woman’s
firm nalgas pressing
against the door of
a rusty sky blue Chevy
pickup while the taste
of her tequila soaked
tongue tickles the
back of my throat

boots that will kick
my ass to hell and back

and make me whisper
“more”