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Wayward Cowgirls

Saint Paul, 28 September 2003

In a trailer park off the Paris 286 loop
Laid bare by a Texas twister your
Self-portrait hangs cocked above the
Broken dishes of wayward cowgirls

Silvery punctuation of betrayal
Your navel inclined in the moiré
Of an October turned cold

I posed you for that portrait like
Window shades pour over indiscretion
And postcards fade to regret

Still, like the magician’s sidekick
You levitate above the rubble