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you smell like witch mist

and pine

tar and dollar store

perfume

can you talk a little slower

I’m a little too high

to follow what you’re saying

you’re blowing smoke

against my cheek

and I can’t tell whether

to kiss you or

continue watching these cowboys

drunk and praying beside us

hell

one of them said he saw a coyote

you smell like alcohol

and designer perfume

and your coat

is brushing against my chest

and I’m thinking about

sucking the gin

off your tongue

but I bum a cigarette

and chew it

eyeing you the whole time

my mouth

is a coat closet

and I’ve got your winter

button down on my left molar

or it’s

a train station

full of trash

and commuters

I can’t rightly tell