Mullet tweaked and frosted
in the whitewashed fluorescence
of a midnight parking lot:
what mysterious reptile skin
makes your boots
in your cowboy fantasy?
Count the clinks of your spurs.
Waiting for the bus, you absently
make your finger bleed.
On the way home, you sneer
at your reflection in the window.
You will sleep, but your restless
cowboy fantasy will not:
lassos made of sheets.