When I hear shoot your shot I think hipdraw on horseback. Standoff at dusk. Shootoff at dawn. Gunsmoke as foreplay. Metal burn as main course. Pistol fucking as sloppy seconds. When I hear shoot your shot I stand with my chest out, copper blue bolo tie the brightest thing about me. Make eyes at the black suede cowboy hat more than the man wearing it. Commit to paying a month’s rent for cowboy boots. Let fear and desire kiss with tongue at the weight of a gun in the palm of my hand. When I hear shoot your shot I think russian roulette while riding cowgirl. I think I have to say cowgirl so you know what I mean but really I mean bucking bronc. Hip bounce. Twisting nasty to get a reaction. I mean the click of an empty barrel and blown wide eyes. I mean threat. No risk assessment. All dirty dare. Muddy boots on motel bed. Stetson hanging off the nightstand. Springs squeaking and tv fuzzing and light shining on sweat dripping. When I hear shoot your shot I think of playing hooky with body heat. Saddle, stirrups, spurs. Chaps. Assless goes without saying, real cowpokes know. Real cowboys
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