Disparaging
fantasies
Shiela’s
Ranch
Crosses
her legs and smokes
A
little weed
While
she waits for me
About
an hour outside of Vegas.
Again
today
I’m
doubting I’ll get there
As
my driving hands
Seem
forever drawn to the warmth
And
safety
Of
these old flannel sheets.
It
seems I’m sleeping in again.
I
just don’t have the juice I use to.
Sheila
if you came to me
The
money’s on the dresser;
Or
at least that’s the way
I
believe it works.
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