She rides side-saddle
into her own cliché
her heart is pumping smoke
boots heavy with things unsaid
sunset flecked with mud
she’s breathing fire
flames curl from her lips
slow-dancing lovers
with cigarette smiles
slink and hips
turn on the clock
and still
after all this time
after so many battered
leather jackets
crumpled sleeps
on strangers’ couches
cups of tea
from chipped mugs
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