...on a pool table

"... ever had sex on a pool table..."
slowly peeled off the label
long-neck bottle she was drinking
no secret what I was thinking,

cowboy boots Wrangler jeans
mostly Texas in her genes
sunk the eight ball corner pocket
tightened my nuts like a Craftsman socket,

breast size, no mystery
knew little of her history
but history wasn't on my brain
fine line 'tween crazy and sane,

"...what the fuck, sure, let's do it..."
"...sorry cowboy, I think you blew it..."
smiled and licked her lips so sweet
said, perhaps, some day we'd meet,

down some dirt road, up some draw
gave a number I could call
were I ever passing through
a itch to drink (itch to screw?),

said no one knows tomorrow
beg, buy, steal, borrow
she racked 'em up, cue ball flyin'
hands in my pants, soul sighing,