Cowboys

I have always tried to be who I've wanted
The very picture of sophistication, and grace,
People of the world feel free to stand in awe of my presence.
Proper grammar, delicate cookies, and haute clothing
I am all of those and so much more,
Shall we converse about Austen, or Bach?
Michelangelo or Van Gogh

I will host a soiree' that will be attended only by the elite.
I will paint my nails a pale peach, and wear my hair in soft curls
Watch me carefully drop advanced words into the conversation,
Marvel at my well moisturized hands.
For I am a lady.

Where am I from?
Surely you guess, Manhattan  or Boston.
Alas no, I cannot quite shake the truth of my roots,
Growing in red dirt soil, where everything is flat and wearing a tank top with jeans is dressing up
Oklahoma, where the people die of boredom and the plants wither in the heat
Why does a man in a cowboy hat catch my eye?
Have I no taste?

Slap me if I ever utter y'all or a'int.
Don't let me drive a pickup covered in mud
When I swoon over the farmer boy please steal me away from this place
Take me to a sophisticated state
Rescue me from the light blue sky, and people chewing for fun

I long to shake Oklahoma,
I even gave my heart to Colorado
The mountains, the sky, the snow.
No tornadoes

Don't let me hit on that cowboy