He sits on the porch of the old
Farm house north of the Rio Grande
And thinks of a girl he once knew
His boots are weathered, as are his hands
He thinks of her yet again
Her memory is clear as the desert night
A cool breeze blows; a coyote howls
He closes his eyes, shuts them tight
And wonders what she is doing now
He is lost in the moment, a moment in time
A time he would rather forget
The bottle is out, as is the glass
Tequilla, some salt, and a lime
He has been here before and knows what to do
Another drink goes down
Her essence is with him, it is all around
Tomorrow she will haunt him too
Thirty years have passed since she pierced his heart
This cowboy will go as he had done all along
Thinking of her, another day he will start
Jason Hurt
