giddy up

be a cowboy
and buy me a steak,
the girl
said on our first date,
sitting on the bar
stool
in her white
boots
and sequined
dress.
be a cowboy and rustle
me up a porter house steak
or a nice
juicy rib eye,
with all the trimmings.
no thanks,
I told her.
let's just have a drink,
if that's okay.
and see if
we like each other.
so, you're not a cowboy,
she says,
shaking her
permed hair, a foot
high on her small
empty head.
nope, I said,
i'm guess i'm not,
but giddy up.
got to go.