the devil wore red cowgirl boots

we knew she was the devil
the day she decided to attend the rodeo
one man died
his eight seconds up
and three were sent to hospital
from the beer gardens
one of a heart attack
two of heat stroke
in the rain

we knew she was the devil
she was walking fire
the red flames of hell
shot from her ankles and across
the soft black leather of her boots
up the roundness of her body
flashed across her parted lips
and over took her hair
in a blaze which blinded
and burnt those who ventured
too close

we knew she was the devil
the way she danced
in front of the band
twisting turning twirling
a prairie asp in the tumbleweed
luring us to her apple
inviting us to take a bite
as we watched from the stage
speeding up the set
in anticipation
of getting off

we knew she was the devil
when the bass player disappeared
in a spark of smoke
and a haze of hops
appearing the next morning
grinning from ear to ear
on the side of the road
cowboy shirtless
cowboy bootless
looking for his missing mount
and money

we knew she was the devil
but we didn’t care