These Boots

THESE BOOTS

SOON YOU'LL REMIND ME
TO PAY MY RESPECTS
TO THE GHOSTS OF ROADS,
WHO WALKED THIS PATH BEFORE ME...
SKIN OF THE SOUL
IN THE BEAST OF THE MAN WHO LOVED ME.
HOW I MISS HIS DIRT
AND KEROSENE SOAKED FACE--
HOW WHATEVER TOUCHED HIM
WAS PART OF HIM
LIKE VICES HE WAS BORN WITH,
NOT SOME BAD LUCK PICKED UP ALONG THE WAY.
EVEN WHEN WE FUCKED
YOU LIKED TO WATCH,
YOU LAID IT DOWN.

NOW QUICK AS I LIT IT
(HIS LAST CIGARETTE)
WATCH ME STOMP IT
GRIND IT TO THE GROUND.

SOMEWHAT-THOUGH VERY LOOSELY-INSPIRED BY THE KILLER INSIDE ME, WHICH ALTHOUGH NOT EVERYONE'S CUP OF TEA CERTAINLY GAVE ME A NEW APPRECIATION OF CASEY AFFLECK'S TALENT. I FEEL THAT THE ABOVE WOULD PROBABLY BE DONE BETTER JUSTICE WITH A GOOD READ-ALOUD, SLOWLY AND WITH A SOUTHERN ACCENT. IT'S MORE OF A MONOLOGUE THAN A POEM WHICH MAKES ME THAT MUCH MORE SAD THAT I'M NO LONGER PERFORMING.

ANYWAY YEAH, THIS SOUTHERN CHICK HAS KILLED HER LOVER AND HER BOOTS ARE THE ONLY WITNESS.