A town called Rotgut

Written by: Sheryl Wood

as I sit in the dingy saloon. Dehydrated and week.journey so long,I hardly feel 
my feet.town name, town name, plays over in my head.the name rot and gut is 
playing over instead. my insides are the first, and the second are the same.my 
travils have prevented me from from feeling sane.as I turn my head, to view all 
that is around.the whiskey and beer is flowing so sound.relief ,relief, is all I 
need.so I raise my hand for the bartender to see.the room is humming,with an 
awkward sound.one as if, just alchaholics around.as I order my drink,I feel a 
pain inside, been to long, no alchahol to be found.as the drink gets slammed in 
front of my being, the name of the town releases it's fear, rotgut,rotgut once 
again in my mind.as I look around,there is no real cowboy to be found.i pick up 
my boots and head for the door.never again will I drink no more.making my way 
out the dusty town,my life looks better, no rotgut around.