redyellow1

By Karie McNeley

She is sitting on the moon
with a pinup smile on her face
and a topped-off beer glass
in her right hand.

It’s for you.

With a smaller glass in her left,
she is cheers-ing the stars.
The foam drips over the lip.

She leans to the side
to lick the froth
spilling from the brim.

She slips and falls
from the crescent moon
she is perched on,
gaining speed as she asteroids
closer and closer.

She still holds the other glass
out for you and makes sure
not to let it tip.

Every
drip
counts.

Dark matter as black as her hair
surrounds her as she falls to you.
Her skin is the amber
liquid that you crave.

The blood red of her retro
cowgirl garb makes you thirsty
for more. For everything
she has.

She is close enough
to hand you the beer.
You reach for her offering.
Your palms are as sweaty
as the glass, and as you touch
for the first time she slips
from your grip.

The last things you notice
are her red hi-heel cowgirl boots
smashing into the pavement
below your feet.

Your tongue dries out
in your effort not to cry
over spilt spirits and shattered glass
and you don’t even get
to taste her.

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