Postcard and Pentecostal Hill

the stirrup
and its companion
on the other side rode
the old road you took to
the stagecoach road like your
new boots take to the turquoise dye 
on a showy sliver easy on the eyes fitting
your foot like the cross on pentecostal hill

I was sitting
in the notorious
hostelry the black horse
saloon tippling to a kindred
spirit I had not yet met but the
intense feeling arose from this late
1800s premonition...but it wasn't to be
here at this saloon and there was just
one other drinking emporium in this town
and the brothel where the whore wore the
high button shoe...I thought not

I walked through
the double swinging
doors at two for five's
I a tippler of limited means
purchased two hummers of a fluid
that kicked like whiskey for a solitary
nickel

it must
be you I
thought sitting
across the way at
the far end of the saloon
bellied up to the bar we'd been
through a war of rebellion I told you
to go home "I want to send you a postcard"

we were
in a position
where 6 bought a
candle and 9 bought
a postcard I delivered
to you both from our dresser
to the rope bed you said you wanted
to borrow the rope and I often wonder
which one of us possesses more fire the
church sent its annual tithe letter

Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, Celebrity firebrand lesbian novelist