To repost
The original post is here. But since it's her birthday, I'll publicly embarrass her again. Oh, and myself. Horrible poet.
Yummy Lolly
The leather-clad ball of the stick shift fits smoothly
And coolly into her hand as she drives
She shifts into the fifth
With all grace of a practiced exotic dancer
Sliding down the pole center stage
This is her breathing
Windows down, the dry dust of the Texas dirt
Gives way to the Mexican sun
As she crosses the border without a thought
They’ll never catch her now
She pets the cold steel of the Desert Eagle .45 in her lap.
Yep, they’ll never catch her now.
Free spirit, too wild to be caged and too smart to be caught.
I run so very fast just to keep up with her cloud trail
A cowboy saint - she’s got the boots to prove it
But don’t bring up big hair or
You’ll end up with a bullet between the eyes
This is how I see
Howling daughter, wanted daughter
Cutting a path with the roar of her guns called wit and courage
And when she goes down
Because every good fighter must taste the dirt
I fear all the more for the world
Because when she rises on smoldering angel’s wings
All that is will be fine, white ash of baptismal snow
Despite these bard’s words
She is mortal
Tasted the salt of tears
Her heartbreak is my own
As if I could wrestle the pain from her
You’d think I’d know better
But I never will
It’s what we do
She’s taught me that
Of all I’ve seen of her and through her
I know I am the bear walking in the coyote’s footprints
Nothing to prove or defend
Nothing to fear or hide away
So we’ll driver our cars too fast
Play with big, shiny weapons
Wear our big, old boots
Say our prayers
and blaze off into the sunset.
Girls like us.
This is us breathing.
Yummy Lolly
The leather-clad ball of the stick shift fits smoothly
And coolly into her hand as she drives
She shifts into the fifth
With all grace of a practiced exotic dancer
Sliding down the pole center stage
This is her breathing
Windows down, the dry dust of the Texas dirt
Gives way to the Mexican sun
As she crosses the border without a thought
They’ll never catch her now
She pets the cold steel of the Desert Eagle .45 in her lap.
Yep, they’ll never catch her now.
Free spirit, too wild to be caged and too smart to be caught.
I run so very fast just to keep up with her cloud trail
A cowboy saint - she’s got the boots to prove it
But don’t bring up big hair or
You’ll end up with a bullet between the eyes
This is how I see
Howling daughter, wanted daughter
Cutting a path with the roar of her guns called wit and courage
And when she goes down
Because every good fighter must taste the dirt
I fear all the more for the world
Because when she rises on smoldering angel’s wings
All that is will be fine, white ash of baptismal snow
Despite these bard’s words
She is mortal
Tasted the salt of tears
Her heartbreak is my own
As if I could wrestle the pain from her
You’d think I’d know better
But I never will
It’s what we do
She’s taught me that
Of all I’ve seen of her and through her
I know I am the bear walking in the coyote’s footprints
Nothing to prove or defend
Nothing to fear or hide away
So we’ll driver our cars too fast
Play with big, shiny weapons
Wear our big, old boots
Say our prayers
and blaze off into the sunset.
Girls like us.
This is us breathing.