Thursday, September 15, 2011

Princess Cowboy, Inspired by Project Princess by Tracie Morris

Fish feet in floppy turquoise blue boots
Built for a man, worn by a skinny-fat girl with
Freckles and peach fuzz on her tanned big toe.

The soles of her feet
Touching the soul of the concrete
cause her boots got ripped up by the
Cold, hard pavement,
cause she had a long hard way to walk in the snow

Waiting for the bus,  her skirt occasionally
Offering a peek of the too-tight, hip-huggin
Panties, ridin up on the thin-plump thighs,
to the passerby
Whenever a flirtatious wind filled the alley

Two planets orbit her face
Earrings shaped like Saturn
Stuck in curly, black hair

Her gum snaps
And she casually chews, glancing at her watch
Then up the street and
Back again

Some of the gum is stuck to her
Tacky, pink lips
Polished and primed with lipstick and
Glitter gloss
Bejewled with the promise of a sweet, sticky kiss
That tastes like cheap wine and
and regrets.
The kind of kiss you would get when the
Moon was filled with poison and so
High that the wolves had forgotten howling for slumber

Her body beckons you to touch
Her arched eyebrow is a warning to not
Though her shirt hangs a little too low, too low
Even though it is cold and the bus
is late

A rusty, red car slows and offers a ride
She offers disdain
without a word
Just by turning up the sharp, freckled nose
The planets bouncing
Rings swinging back and forth

Impatiently her fingers tap against a studded, silver belt
Where wild horses roam the buckle
Searching for bluer skies

Clink, clink clink!
Turquoise and opal rings click out a beat that is
Maddening with the passing minutes
Stolen rings
because she has flair and pride but not cash
Which is why she is waiting for the 5 o’clock
Why she turned up her nose to
Stand in the bitter cold so she can go to work
At a job she hates
So she can come home to a street she hates and
Buy new pairs of
Lacy, too-high, too-snug panties and
Offer a peep but not a touch

She’s the one of which songs are sung
The elusive urban goddess with
Tan skin, plump lips
and a far-off look

A foreign scent to her skin, like she has
Slept every night in a desert
and now she is wild jackal caged in a cold, hard city
Where the streets know her name

She’s the one
The princess cowboy of fifth avenue
and she knows it
Lingering for a moment under the light of
Flickering street lamps
Until the bus turns the corner and she ascends
and is gone.