Tequila
Pennylane wore shiny cheap
plastic knee high boots
with the pointed toe and
pencil heel.
Stumbling sandy steps
forty miles frim Tijuanna.
She wore a strippers silk skirt,
swishing against pale, thin thighs.
Penny was seducing salvation
in Augusts torrid sandy
impoverished paradise.
Pacific air, pushed up,
wretched rock cliff faces,
blowing her small frame,
tossing sand to mix with
the blow in her purse.
She'd hold her tequila bottled
tight, exposing small
white knuckles
clinging to clear fluid
clutching and encasing the
desert water.
Corrupting, coursing, pushing,
spinning the trapped little worm.
She hated and loved the caged
creature, she liked that
her grasp, staggering step
could control his motion and at
bottle's end,
she could swallow his fate.
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