Rachel wears a leather cowboy hat
that used to be her Dad’s. He left it
lying on the back shelf of the car. Sun
magnified through glazing made it shrink
like a voodoo head. She wears it
round the house, with tunic shirts from France,
mock-leather knee-high boots and Scotch-wool
blanket draped artfully about her shoulders.
We call her ‘Clint’ and whistle the theme tune
from ‘A Fistful of Dollars.’ Close, but no cigarillo.
Breakfast TV had a fashion slot
while she sipped her coffee, hot and strong and black.
They called it ‘Cowgirl Chic.’ She sneered.
She’s not a slave to fashion. With her,
it’s more a case of ‘Cowgirl Cheek.’
First published in Purple Patch