|
She took off her stockings, I held them to my face. |
|
She had your ankles, I felt filled with grace. |
|
'Two hundred dollars straight in, |
|
Two-fifty up the ass,' she smiled and said. |
|
She unbuckled my belt, pulled back her hair, |
|
And sat in front of me on the bed. |
|
She said, 'Honey how's that feel, do you want me to go slow?' |
|
My eyes drifted out the window, down to the road below. |
|
I felt my stomach tighten. The sun bloodied the sky |
|
And sliced through the hotel blinds. I closed my eyes. |
|
Sunlight on the Amatitlan, sunlight streaming thru your hair. |
|
In the Valle de dos Rios, smell of mock orange filled the air. |
|
We rode with the vaqueros, down into cool rivers of green. |
|
I was sure the work and that smile coming out 'neath your hat |
|
Was all I'd ever need. |
|
Somehow all you ever need's, never really quite enough you know. |
|
You and I, Maria, we learned it's so. |
|
She slipped me out of her mouth, 'You're ready,' she said. |
|
She took off her bra and panties, wet her finger, slipped it inside her, |
|
And crawled over me on the bed. |
|
She poured me another whisky, |
|
Said, 'Here's to the best you ever had.' |
|
We laughed and made a toast. |
|
It wasn't the best I ever had, |
|
Not even close. |
