Diane Poem by mark king

Everywhere

In this old place
Packed with rednecks
Cowboys, dust and sweat

They speak

In low tones about Diane
Because she’s so wild
But I’m sure it’s the vodka
I’ve been serving her

She keeps

Ambushing me behind the bar
Like we’re playing
Cowboys and Indians
I’m losing of course
But I like the fifty some bucks
She’s shoved down my pants

Diane has

Misdeeds in her eyes
Whirling and twirling
With every man in the bar
As she looks
Outside her wedding ring
Late in the crisis of her life

Somewhere

She bent her ear
To fortunes muse
Who whispered so softly
As truth laughed
While times hourglass
Keeps sifting away
As lonely waits
Dressed in black