High Noon Antics

High Noon Antics

High noon, the time was set upon this arid, sultry day
The guns would set against the other, quick-draw style
In speedy rivalry and bid to have their final say
With keen eyed rapid movement versatile

This Western town could not contain two greats
Fanned were the flames of liquor and land dispute
Thus one would remain, the other to a deathly fate
In quick draw fashion and concluding shoot
  
The saloon doors yield to the spurred and booted big boys
Holstered guns secured against their denim hips
They walk out with swaggered gait and angry poise
Out from the quieted hub bub of secure sealed lip
 
A spitting sandy cloud cause tumbleweeds to roll
Across the vacant lot betwixt a row of phantom, cardboard houses 
Where twitchy curtains hang, but of people, not a soul
They count the paces for the big encounter

Ten honest steps with one determined turn
And steel eyed stares that cross the shaky divide
With hands that hover o’er the fire arm unconcerned 
Now sudden moves determine who might live

Discharged the flash of solar weaponry betwixt the gap
A groan from somewhere denotes a direct hit
On crumpled knees the gun relinquishes its grasp
Now prone upon the dusty earth, a final moan emitted

He took the bullet between the eyes by one more precise
The other just grazed upon the arm, remains unfazed
Blowing smoke from his gun, he revels in the others demise
Only room for one here, he removes his gaze

Copyright © Rose Johnson | Year Posted 2017

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