“Play the fucking drums”, she said,
Tambourine in hand.
I huffed down my cigarette,
Tapped out something by The Band.
Her swagger was a masterpiece;
Hips swaying with each rattled wrist.
Her rhythm was pathetic
But she got kind of got the gist.
She assaulted Tequila daily
With a bitter, sour smile.
She’d be somewhat approachable
If only for a while.
Her dad voted for Reagan
And her mum’s never washed her hair
But there’s something in that wild,
Dishevelled, scintillating stare.
She hit a deer at ninety,
Rolled her truck into a ditch
They say she should be dead now
Just her head needed one stitch
She told me that she loved me and
I said thanks before she left
I haven’t seen her since then
My hearts broken and bereft
The band broke up weeks later
I bought a flat in south Vermont
One day maybe she’ll find me
I guess that’s all I’ll ever want