there's coffee and cinnamon buns on the table, all the ranch hands cowboy boots by the door.

the sky i do my chores under is orange and blue and the smell of tobacco on the thick corduroy jacket i borrow is stronger than the thoughts I have of him today.

i take my break, the day has gotten hot so i lay by the creek, in the bentgrass. some of the others join, always starting a philosophical conversation.

i'm asked why i reject the good hearted men i do if i am single and want a good relationship. i laugh, "i'm waiting for someone i love"

they tell me a cowgirl never waits. I tell them a cowgirl stays true.

the silence is near deafening, if it wasn't for the bullfrogs singing. teo lights an American spirit. i take a swig from my flask.

"is he waiting for you?" I grab teo's cigarettes and lighter "no"