05.26.22

DRUNK COWBOY AND COFFEE

I saw you perusing the countless rows of flowers this morning. You caught my eye because I never seen no cowboy before inside the flower market.  Your dingy off white straw hat, with a tan band around it, looked like it spent little time away from your head.  The lining of your hat probably matched the stale look on your face. The denim tight wranglers, and cowboy cut shirt, the one like John Travolta wore in Urban Cowboy.   Yea, you were a real life cowboy living out your destiny in the aisles of the flower mart of the village by the sea, Carlsbad.  

In between the rows of roses I noticed your snakeskin boots approaching, closer, close.  Coming to Wrangle me.  Shuffling, shuffling, those boots though! They were dope!  Positioned right in front of me...then you spoke….The lines across your forehead and vacant look in your eyes foretold my future.  This wasn’t going to be pleasant. 

“You gotta pull the roses out like this”  This is when the cowboy pulled the roses out of the bucket so fast, like he was pulling a gun out of a holster…”liiiiiike this” he said, droplets of water flung everywhere.  It’s too early for this I thought.  Drunk cowboy was educating me on how to handle the  roses properly.  All I could think of was how the roses were being flung around like some imaginary gun, or lasso for this guy, and all I wanted was to giddy up on out of there and grab another cup of coffee.  I  was hoping to interrupt his reenactment of boyish youth, but Drunk cowboy was serious in his endeavor to educate me. 

He proceeded to let me know that I had handled the roses improperly and how he would have to manage and care for the roses I was fucking up.  I told drunk cowboy “thank you.”   There was more banter after that, and like a good conditioned girl I thanked him with a smile to boot.  

I saw you later, smoking a cigarette, loading your van, blowing smoke all over the roses.  

Blowing smoke all over.

Blowing smoke.