The crooked
tooth road
leading from Austin County
wasn't kicking up
the gold dust she'd been
dreaming of--
and the once blue Ford truck
now sickly smeared Army green
hardly seemed a suitable carriage
for any sort of princess,
but it would have to do.
The passenger door had a
hateful way of stubbing a toe
on the hinge,
in need of a good firm tug
that made her small fingers ache
when she opened its jaw...
desperate to escape mother's
apron strings which seemed more
like impossibly long fingers,
squeezing the very life
right out of her;
every time they were in
each other's company
Shelby swore it was unbearable.
(Even apart, she could still
taste sour disapproval,
and everyone knows desperation is
a certain recipe for disaster.)
She'd met Jeff
in the "Boot Up" barroom--
believed he was funny after
consuming three or four
illegal beers;
the fake ID in her back pocket
betraying an impish face
framed by cherry locks
of unruly temptation.
He thought she was pretty;
she thought he looked
kinda good to her too,
but it was the key in his pocket
and the fact he came from
out of town that drew her
closer than any sense
of physical attraction.
Finding her in need
of a way out,
he was wishing for a way
into her snug fitting Levi's,
and somewhere in the middle
they cut a deal.
Pleading how she couldn't bear
to go back to mother,
he said she wouldn't have to--
just run away with him
in the thick of August,
disappearing like the beer
once filling their glasses.
In a certain haze of mind
it seemed like the best offer
she'd heard in ages,
while to him she seemed like
the best lay in the whole joint
through his tin can lidded eyes.
Shelby gathered the remains
of her dimming wits about her
and clung to Jeffrey's arm
as thought her were
her long awaited Saviour;
the two of them weaving
their way past a fleshy hooker
chatting up a customer
by the neon Bud sign
drooping over the doorway.
Bumping along in his
less than fairy-tale pumpkin,
she winced a deluded smile
thinking of how this would
surely teach a lesson to her
wretched, God forsaken mother,
who really shouldn't have
messed with her.
Behind the wheel, a would be
saviour was duly contemplating
how long it had been since anyone
had fired him up
or the stove in his kitchen,
and just how good she'd look there
(that is, after satisfying
a different kind of appetite).
Shelby couldn't wait to get away,
to put bitter miles behind her;
Jeffrey couldn't wait to get her home
and work her over...
he'd then kick back and watch TV
relaxed, feeling satisfied
having tied those apron strings
behind her back
in a firm, foreboding knot.
