The Dusty Trail
A glacier like a cowboy sat
Upon the foothills. And just like that
The climate changed from hope
To glad. And just like that a bar of soap
Was drawn from the rhinestone-clad holster.
With pink and orange stones it did stir
The emotions pride and reverence
But didn’t make sense
With its raven claw and bunny paw.
That type of injustice should be against the law.
To bathe with soap upon the skin
With water warm and a glass of gin,
Made cold with glacial ice, those are nice
Experiences to have. And then to roll the dice
Into the saloon and pollute the soul
With games of chance. Such a toll
Does pleasure take upon the Puritan
[for those believers, anyway]. A ban
Would ameliorate, if self-imposed.
Unfeeling cowboys are never so disposed.
Copyright © James Friske | Year Posted 2017
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