I could grow old with you
Baby girl,
But I’m not looking for love,
My sweet doll,
‘Cause nowadays
I’ve a six shooter on my hip that I keep loaded
With three bullets
And three lies
And the pocket on my side
Has a lighter
And a key for a night,
They accept the fire
Because all six hit
Even though they went through the other side,
Always equipped with a smile
In case the tide rolls out
Or rolls in
Or whether she sink her feet into
The wet sand next to mine,
Standing on my two
All the time
And that too is all I’ve got left
For now,
But then
I’ll just breathe
when she catwalks up
With those grown dry eyes
And her own gun
To my stomach,
Red dripping from the jacket
As she whispers.

“Bleed slow, honey”