Wild West
Pleasure and exposure, closure
All of you steams and then boils over
All of you gleams and beckons closer
Raised well, all “yes, sir” “no, sir”
Naked edges, hollow scratches,
Bare witness as your world collapses
Get wild, dip me into the ashes,
Share ambitions and your passions
Wild west, child now, child then
Insults blamed on ignorance, lucky guesses on sixth sense
Horse kicks out of his reflex or self-defense
He doesn’t speak so why don’t you just ask again
Generations came, shame evolved the same,
Open wide, tongue twists into a molten ruby flame
Get wild, Honey, call me by your name
Find new ways to stake your claim
Three bullet wounds, like full blood moons,
Gunpowder smell across sand dunes,
You loved my singing and my tunes,
You made me think that love was good
Dances we made up of glances
Slick back the hair, as tough as gangsters
Get wild, write a couple stanzas,
Running won’t get your questions answered
Copyright ©
March Archer
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