The Size of all Texas

At first, the man with the gun thought she was cute.

“So what if her teeth ain’t straight

and her tits ain’t huge,” He says in his best Texan drawl.

“She’s the kinda woman a man would buy a gun for.”

Boom-boom-boom deep in his chest,

like an old tin can filled with BBs,

rattling around like Mexican jumping beans bursting to life,

ping-ping-ping.

Now there’s a woman running around in a long white dress,

tears of happiness staining her lacy chest.

With twenty shots fired off into the night to celebrate.

“You are now my property.  Prah-per-ty.” He says as he gives her backside a slap.  “And when you gunna change your name to mine, woman?”

Now it’s time to go home and she doesn’t want to.

“There’s op-per-tune-na-ty out there”, he says, “Don’t you want that?” She shakes her head.  No.

The man with the gun is getting mad.  “You’re gunna go, you hear me, woman?  You hear me?  I even gave you my tin can!”

The woman is running wide eyed, like a bird flopping on the ground, the tail of her dress whipping around her like a rope.

And the man with the gun takes aim. “I warned ya, woman.”

Downtrodden and defeated, she walks along side him,

Holding open the hole in her chest,

that a plug the size of all Texas couldn’t fix.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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