8

Headin’ out West

Under the slappin’ of a whinny and the shimmy of a tinny

Met a city slickin’ woman on the stronger side of pretty.

Order us a pair of Malibu sunshines but the barmaid a critic,

Says the best I can do you is a Coke.



Now, have you ever been the host to a big smoker in the country?

The type that write an essay on the organ when they haven’t learned a key.

Think bein’ a country girl is cowboy hats and slingin’ drinks.

They have a lot to teach.



She says this ceilin’ is the traitor to both our parachute and trampoline,

Do you know a spot for a quick dip?



Headin’ out west we get chattin’,

Learn she loves a conspiracy.

The junior was a senior

And the plane a hologram.

I don’t know about all that, but how about a little game?

Start with a theme,

Europe.



She pauses,

She’s lost the address.



Shorts on the fence by a front yard, you say?

She says I’m seein’ only fisherman.

I say it’s just around the bend.



There’s a way not out of the way,

It’s past the old billabong by the willow tree and another couple willow trees.



She says we’ve passed the willow trees.



I say it’s just around the bend.

Only a couple more hours ‘til we’re almost there.



Out here at the river, she’s got a live little feed,

Bark brushed aside and geese kicked away.

With the moment arranged, it feels so bare of authenticity.

Go ahead,

I’ll watch you swim.



She tears her shorts in attraction and pulls them off for attention.

I say to her don't ignore the weather for fashion,

Ya red belly!

She says, what a strange reaction to what would satisfy me.



Mournin’ constraints,

Her basic pleasures refrain.

I say don’t forget it’ll all be gone someday.

She says leave the thoughts for the mistakes,

Leap like me and get involved.



There she goes.

Head first into the murky river.



I say love,

It’s about a foot.



I’ve got her pickin’ at the river but the pickin’s chipped and cheap         ,

And say your cut must be healin’ nice to be diggin’ in that deep.

She’s passin’ over gold to snatch from my scrapheap.

The bottles remind her of diamonds.



Wearin’ a suntans tone of we stayed out too long.



Lady, on that freckled face, you might wanna put some cream,

If you peel too hard, you’re goin’ to start to bleed.

But I think the city lady has had enough of me.



You know how it is.



She says I refuse this trend and refute this idea!

I am an individual who wears the colours you do not dare!

I am the champion of the apology!

In my palm is your identity, and I know how to powder it onto me evenly!



I say if your mouth needs to be runnin’ then you’re missin’ the point.

There’s not a lot to learn about livin’ in this joint.

Try to listen to the croakers and the summer crickets sing

But you’re acceptin’ your reflection ‘cause you won’t let it in.



Love, come and get your lunch from this tin.