Wranglers, Whiskey and White Socks

The mustachioed cowboy
with grass stains

on his knees 
plays the slide guitar for me.

The barmaid fills shots,

the whiskey flows,

wranglers, white socks, 
a band of four.

Mustache in a Stetson
bends over the keys

feet work the pedals
smiles for me.

A Quadrille for dVerse, the pub where poets hang out.