these boots were made for walking

There’s a gum heart stuck to the water tower
with the crooked scrapings of  
"Jimmy loves Mary 1989"  
carved into the metal  
along with "Call Amy for a good time"
with the number scratched out  
and the kind of crude graffiti
left by drunken teens at 2 in the morning  
on a Saturday night  
 
The dusty streets of this town  
have held all our stories  
the blood, sweat and tears
the births, marriages, deaths  
affairs and divorces
 
My cowboy boots have kicked the gutters
tasted Friday night’s vomit  
and been cleaned up in the haze of  
Saturday’s hangovers
they’ve scuffled and kicked  
and tasted the blood of youthful misunderstandings
they’ve run and hid and stared at walls
where you count the times and girls  
you’ve fucked up against the bricks
behind the tavern, the supermarket
and town hall  
 
I know the stories here
better than the back of my hand  
and in a generation to come  
they’ll be my stories to tell  
like bent fairy tales of a far off place
my children might never get to see  
through the eyes of my youth  
 
Tonight I drink a farewell  
to the places I know so well  
my cowboy boots kicking up the dust one last time  
before I chase new adventures in the city of lights
finding new stories to tell in the back alleys  
and subway carts of a new life  
 
© Indie Adams 2015  
 
 
Written for Madame Lavender's "Pick a List" comp, List #2