The Draw

They met at midnight on the lawn
The sun was down and the moon had yet to rise.
He was surprised by the look of the skies.
She was sitting beneath a tree,
Her hair had blown free and
Her legs were long enough to reach
The edge of the sheet she sat upon.
He knelt and knew that he had until dawn.
She shivered but her breath was warm and
Crystallized when it hit the air.
He liked her hair.
She laughed like ice in a glass as
He told his best jokes.
She spoke of things rare and dangerous-
Midnight things on nights like these;
Like moths to light are drawn.
He leaned in toward her and
Ignored her hesitation.
He kissed her like the taste of flagpoles in winter-
All tongue with two lonesome lips-
Like weapons on her hips.
The lead was long and hot and hardening in its mold.
The steel in her revolver had grown cold and
Needed loading.
His wick was lit and he was near exploding.