04-11-2016, 09:37 AM
I Don’t Wanna Be a Cowboy
I always loved the sounds of horses—
the clippity-clop of a slow trot
and the whinnies and neighs
in between.
Back when we still watched Westerns
I had a toy
gun that must have weighed
a kilo. You could cold-cock Goliath
and not chip the paint.
They don’t make ‘em
like that anymore. They’re plastic now
and look more real, but the feel is inauthentic.
You wouldn’t want to play out at night
in your camouflage skin
looking for giants to slay.
I always loved the sounds of horses—
the clippity-clop of a slow trot
and the whinnies and neighs
in between.
Back when we still watched Westerns
I had a toy
gun that must have weighed
a kilo. You could cold-cock Goliath
and not chip the paint.
They don’t make ‘em
like that anymore. They’re plastic now
and look more real, but the feel is inauthentic.
You wouldn’t want to play out at night
in your camouflage skin
looking for giants to slay.