Bar Fly Queen
I've polished up my hard heart
and now it gleams.
diamond-studded
and it seats itself
in its setting
at the bar
where all the cowboys
come
and chip away
at its facets
word chisels flash
crack on its face
and fade away
with yet another on the way
none making a scratch
because this heart was forged
in the whirlwind
in the maw of a volcano
heat-sealed
and it was spewed out from a thousand
white hot lava-cuts and mishandlings,
misunderstandings and purloined shiny babbles
which went dark like concert sing-a-long wands in two minutes
from come-ons pronounced at five minutes before
the closing bell,
five minutes before last call
all desperate for Hope-Not-Coming
kidnapped love
lies in chains
at the bottom of those meaningless words
'what's your name, honey? '
But I am the bar-fly in the ointment;
Lady Chatterly who never rode nude
the cowgirl who'd kiss her horse
before she'd kiss you
who sits impassively
draining admiration and flatteries
from rodeo men
fresh from the last town
looking for circuit queens
and good night kisses and hugs
and bed room squeaks
from the not-really a honey-moon bed.
I am the bar-fly in the ointment
queen of my own bar-stool realm
all glittery made up
with a seven year old at home;
who dug deep into my hope chest
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
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