Monday, March 14, 2011

Of Cowboy Poets and Faith Healing


Me and Zeb rode God's land
down canyon, mesa, brush,
to mend the lame with healing hand,
to sing of cowboy lust.

Now, one dark night Zeb couldn't see,
stepped off a railroad bridge
but grasped the edge and dangled free,
one tough son of a bitch.

Zeb hung there by his fingertips
'til dirt he saw at morning light
was but an inch below his feet,
which pissed him off so much he hung there for rest of the day, just out of spite.

No comments: