Spring 2010

Pack of Lies

My father was a horse thief.
He brought me on the back
of a Palomino to this saloon.
After a thousand ten-gallon hats
I keep the chit-chat firearm related
and show off my lasso collection.
I work hard to furnish my room
with credible objects. Besides that
it’s me on the balcony, looking
for a lurid sunset to burn this town.
I'll be the one spitting whiskey
on the flames, like the dancing girl
in the photo behind the bar.
They’d peg us for sisters but
I haven’t cut my hair in fifteen years.
Any cowboy that rides sees me wave it
like a kerchief from my window
before he disappears.
          What can I do but wait
          for the night I’ll cut it, tie it
          to the bed post and shimmy down
          to meet you, the one true thing
          I can say.



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Mood Ring by Jason Livingston