Marie Harrison Poet I do not know?

King of the Range

King Of The Range

 

Pinto beans and hot fry bread

are his means for survival out on the

open range.

 

Herding cattle all day with his quarter 

horse Saint and his border collie 

Paintbrush is his way to make loads 

of silver change.

 

At night when he’s by himself under

the bright twinkling stars, he strokes himself  

while thinking of a nude Jessica Lange.

 

He’s the man to call to kill a mean 

coiled-up rattlesnake and to fish for 

a tasty basket of hot catfish, 

but computers and cell phones 

to him seem strange.

 

When he goes home, his Mom whips up

a pie of fresh lemon meringue.

 

Women sigh as he goes by, unaware

that years ago in a gunfight at

high noon, his virile manhood

lost its twang.

 

But he still tips his ten gallon hat 

and winks at them as he passes by 

because he’s King of the range.

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