5 & Dime Cowboys

rode the horses, rode the tricycles when young,
now ride the 5¢ wooden horse 
up and down 
just like the carved saloon dead eye gunslinger
who used the brass spittoon,
who waxed his mustache
who waxed his black horse 
had a permanent smirk, was stolen
after the bushwhack
wore the silver spurs, notched the saloon 
floor like he notched the 
six gun colt
hammered out six bullets like carpenters
hammered out a whore house;
the 5 & Dime Cowboys had their favorite 
saloon ‘B’ girl
they wanted someone to ride the range with
happily ever after
but whenever they proposed, she threw down
the aces and eights
she preferred the gunslinger, liked when he 
kept his boots on in bed
boot hill disappeared when the Dime Store came
his stubble unshaved, voice raspy, the gunslinger 
grabbed the stair rail like a resident 
drunk grabbed his memories,
was shot in the back by his mistress,
circuit judge gave him life,
his horse died of heatstroke galloping
out of town
old glue turns yellow, like dried mud in a riverbed,
clay used to make a makeshift house;
the 5 & Dime Cowboys more like ghosts now,
tumbled into the hereafter like a tumbleweed
tumbles on the purple sage,
now tumbles past the up and down wooden horse,
the 5 & Dime owner stands outside,
wears the big teeth smile, apron pocket holds
the dimes, he rides the wooden horse
every night,
into the sunset…
Copyright © 04/12/2012  Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

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