51st and glendale

I found her at the corner of 51st and Glendale at the feed store. I was buyin' a bag of rosin for my bull rope so I could get it ready for the rodeo coming up in Gilbert. Needed a new glove too. Then I looked down the aisle and saw the damndest, prettiest gal I'd ever seen. Didn't give it too much thought at the time but then I ran into her again at checkout. She was buying salt blocks, chicken feed and ant poison for the damn ants that get into the chicken feed. Not that the chickens won't eat the ants right along with the feed "but they tend to crawl into your boots." she said.
Now I had already taken off my hat (Justin, white straw, 20 bucks on sale at the local western outfitters, made in Mexico), simply hoping she would know what that meant. She commented on my ropers. A little worn, worse for the wear and tear they are. She was wearing ropers to, same color. Not so worn.
She has green eyes and a smile that lights up the sky. She has a voice that I'm sure makes doves cry. And from the moment I heard that voice and paired it with the beauty before me, I knew I was lost. Done for. In love. So I'm sellin' my ropin' gear and my ponies, cheap. Gonna get a real job. Quit ridin'. Quit windin' up in jail every other Saturday in Pueblo CO, Henderson NE, or Yuma AZ. Can't mention Quartzite since the charges are pending. That was not my gun, by the way.
Sounds funny, I know, coming from a hardened old cuss like me. But I still know a pretty flower when I see one. I'll grow a whole garden full of 'em for her. She is the best thing this old cowboy's got close to in a long time.