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

Pop!

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

Cigarettes

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.