Sourdough in the Boxcar

sourdough in
the boxcar she
opened the bread sack
it was still warm from memories
last time it was grain this time newsprint

damage-sensitive
cargo she damn sure
wasn't going to die of
suffocation she opened a
bottle of whiskey for ventilation

to view paper
that had yet to be 
typeset she wondered
what the inked headlines
would read once the cargo 
made it to the printing press
the whorehouse burned a brothel
inspector spurned

crawling out
from behind the
stack of newsprint

woman outlaw in chaps
and colored rag tied around
her neck asked "why didn't you
take the stage?"

"preacher knows
the route, what about you?"

"freighthoppin' sentimental
I could use a taste of what's
in your bottle"

train slowed
and stopped we
came out the side
door the outlaw buckling
up her pants and chaps I wore
the colored rag the newsprint knew
the hot story the other woman exited
the boxcar with my sack of sourdough

Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, Celebrity firebrand lesbian novelist