OUTLAW Alexia Semlek
I think I might have loved you the way poker chips fall on a table when opponents stare without blinking, looking for secrets and hoping for lies. We were likely lovers in a cowboy romance of Arizona— sepia tones fading to painted frames, the echoes of rifles remastered in stereo sound. There are no rules in a knife fight but women undress quicker for outlaws, so I unlaced my own corset in blue prairie mornings and red desert nights. Somewhere south of the border we became hypocrites and horse thieves. The west, now too civilized was just the place we used to be. Like dynamite on steam engines we just kept exploding, falling in love with each other's sidekicks, and running from the law. And we'll go out in a blaze of glory