Searching for Fool’s Gold

The loveliest girl ran feral in a Wild West town.
I took the light rail to her lair.

She opened the door, smiled and let me in.
My right foot got caught on one of her black bras.

Her breath told a tale of wine and beer.
Mine smelled of whiskey and Camels.

Garlic chicken and lavender candles filled the place.
“Have a seat. Make yourself comfy,” she said.

I flipped through a snowboarding magazine.
The neighbor’s pit bull mix barked at a helicopter.

Pavement was blaring from the stereo.
She handed me a 16 oz. Budweiser.

“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes,” she said.
I opened the beer, lit a cigarette and winked at her.

Her roommate came out of his room and headed for the front door.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” he said. “Catch you guys later.”

The heat in the kitchen must have been too much
because she came out topless like an Oklahoma house

during tornado season.
My smoke dangled from my lip.

She hopped on my lap, nipples perfectly in front of
my wide open eyes.

She tattooed my heart.
I was falsely rich for a few weeks.