cowgirls, barbed wire and whiskey

There is a place where the prairie meets the sky. West of never. Where dry grassy plains fall grey to the granite shadows east of the alpenglow…

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There is an empty whisky glass beside me on the table and I want to tell you about the time I knelt down in the ditch to see the sun set through the barbed wire of my youth down highway 22 south of BlackDiamond and the Longview Hotel.

Kris Kristofferson, Haggard and Cash…22’s and dirt bikes, cowgirls in tight western shirts and feathered hair, rotary dial phone calls down the hall…

I felt her hands on my shoulders and as she pressed her body closer to my back to cut the wind…I thought she was still in the car…and her voice warmed the space behind my ear, “I want to see what you see.””

I didn’t turn to look at her pale blue eyes, or hear the words, or reply, I just pointed up in front of the lens to this…

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And knew right there, right then…anywhere but right here right now…she was my girl.

post script –

She told me one day an old cowboy tipped his hat at the airport between flights, between cities, between loves…reminders are everywhere.

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This entry was published on January 26, 2013 at 11:48 pm. It’s filed under Love, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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