A Dumb Blonde. Drinking Beer. From A Trough.
May 3, 2012
Answer Me. Please.
Phone ringing. I know she’s there. She wouldn’t leave that phone. Anymore than the hand. The one she keeps running through her hair.
I hate country music. Except for Cash. About being overwhelmed. By lies. Like a bad joke. About a dumb blonde. Drinking beer. From a trough.
Phone ringing. She could be in the tub. Soaking. That skin. Why aren’t I there. Or she could be with him. And there must be a million country songs. That tells you what comes next.
She has an ear for melodrama. And heart for the sale. Of sadness in a drunk’s voice. Drop her trousers. Bent over a table. And it all spins around in my head. Like the bullet in this gun.