Red Neck Lovin

Jim bob flipped the top off his third Genesee Cream Ale and drained half of the can in one swallow. He slid his hairy bare arm across his soppy wet lips. He took a deep sigh and set the can down on the rickety Formica table. He thought of her. He sat down and took out a dented up box of American Spirits from his shoulder tuck. The rush of the smoke hit the back of his throat and he keeled over in a violent coughing fit. After hacking up a lung he sat back. She came again in quick flashes of his mind.
She sat on an old barstool, immodestly dressed up in a red halter top and black leather mini skirt. She looked good for forty-seven, hard up, dried up old barfly. Slightly overweight, but hell, that hussy had to pack that baggage somewhere, he thought. He watched her drink like a fish while she hover over the bar top swaying like a see-saw. He walked up behind her to see if she was worth the money. He gave in after he stared at her depreciatingly cheap ass. He slicked back his greasy mass and pulled up a chair to her left. She guzzled another shot. She turned, gave him a sloshy smile, then brought a cigarette to her pasty lips. She raised her brows at him looking for a light. Six shots later they found their polluted selves in the dank restroom. In a stall he poured his sloppy wet misguided kisses on her lipstick stained cheek. Ankle deep in a toilet leak, she yanked up her mini skirt and whipped down her halter to reveal a lot more of herself.
He grabbed another beer from the grease stained refrigerator and walked out of the squeaky door of the trailer. He swigged the beer while his eyes scanned the backyard. In one year his whole life had drastically changed. His money grubbing wife walked out on him with her five kids soon after he lost his job at the factory. The bitch sued for child support and he could not pay it. The bank came and took half of the double wide as payment. Then the hound dog Buck, was struck by a Semi along the high way one day. All he had left were a cemetery of useless rusted out cars and trucks. It was too depressing so he went back to his scurvy hole of a trailer. After a few more beers he pulled out an old yellowy piece of paper and wrote some words for the lady he meet at the bar. He figured he could give it to her and she would move in.
Four hours later he opened his bloodshot eyes while his face lade in a puddle of drool. He wiped his face with his stained white T-shirt and opened another beer. In his blurred vision he read the paper back to himself.
Can’t get you off my mind
Naked in repose
Silvery silhouette girls
Adorn my mud flaps.

He tucked some chew behind his lower lip. He thought about her again and decided to bring the poem to her at the bar. Besides, he was out of beer. He slipped on his muddy boots and stumbled out of the dust-hole to the pickup truck. He flung open the door, hit him-self in the forehead and fell backwards into a mud puddle mixed with motor oil. When he looked down he could not make out anything he had written. He needed to try and forget her. It was never going to work out!