A Cowboy Is
Azure winds picks desert puffs off the canyon crests.
Corliss trots the edge of the plateau, shimmering red rock.
Over yonder the village hangs a sign, "No Good Corliss: Shoot On Sight."
When the years stretch on like an aching Texas sun,
Bad man Corliss will lay down his arms, his anger, even his grit.
Only the boy who rode the small calf will be left to pump the blood from his old heart.
Yard sales a hundred years later will sell 19th century memorabilia:
"I got this from my great-grandpa, said he got it from an old outlaw."
"Shoot, you don't say? Looks like the mark of a real cowboy."
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