The twang of strings from a distant guitar strumming meticulously, tingled her eardrums.
The climb to her task seemed to stretch for miles.
Hesitation
Perspiration sparkled on her brow.
On top at last the wind swept across and through the fabric that was wearing her.
Instant security overcame her loins then it started
Movement beneath her slow and calculating.
She ran her fingers through her locs, she was feeling free.
The strumming in the distance intensified below her back and forth up and down.
She rolled her tongue over the glossy lipstick on her upper lip.
Where was she?
Whistling, cheering, moisture was developing.
The rhythm underneath her was firmer, swifter.
Her breathing heavier, faster, faster, deeper, deeper, up and down, around.
She felt around her,
The touch something leather.
She opened her eyes, a saddle, lights up down, back, forth; calmer; eyes wider.
The ride on the mechanical bull had come to an end amongst a crowd cheering and applauding.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Oct 2016
About this poem:
This poem is about a night leaving Tijuana, Mexico. My friend and I had parked on the American side and walked over in the 90's you could do that. On our way out she dared me to ride on a mechanical bull that was near where we exited. This was the experience from that ride.
It is part of a collection of poetry that has been turned into a novel I'm looking forward to having published very soon.
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BATCHICK Poetry (1)