One whiskey, one cold beer and a good cigar.

One whiskey, one cold beer and a good cigar.

Was a pretty Texas gal smiling at me. She purred like a kitten and I knew. I ordered one whiskey, one cold beer and a good cigar. They wouldn’t break my heart. The Jazz was good; the girls were pretty and in was 7 pm. Still happy hour in Austin, Texas.

The pretty Texas gal asked me for a story. She told me. You Hemingway bar poets, write and write. Make me laugh, make me smile with a tale of foolishness.

I told her. “Once upon a time. Prettiest gal in Texas in a tight black dress, she told me she loved me. I was the only one. She had soft and lustrous skin, rosy, red lips and eyes of a cat. I asked her. Will you love me forever? She ordered a whiskey and a cold beer. She smiled and she brought me close. The fragrance of love fades away, desperate needs become demanding wishes. Love is just another four-letter word we speak. I like you soldiers, you lie, you love kisses and you don’t imprison love. This is what should be. Was a happy ending. Neither me nor the Austin gal died of a broken heart.”

She laughed and she asked me. Johnnie, Johnnie. If love isn’t true, if love isn’t real. Why do we run to love? Why do dream of the perfect person? What is real? I brought her closer and I told her. One whiskey, one cold beer and a good cigar are real. We steal and borrow from each other. We need more friends. We need more laughter, we need more song, and we need the Texas two-step in Austin.

This is what love should be.

Coyote