The Gunslinger
High noon...
somewhere in the deep west
a drifter rides into town in need of a fresh horse and some rest.
He carries two 45's
custom made to his taste
with pearl handles and cursed steel
many a man have tasted their fate.
He carries no badge, rides without a gang
and for a purse of silver
all he needs is a location and a name.
He asks no questions
don't care about the man or his crimes
if justice comes by way of payment
then it'll be done swiftly and on time.
The deputy gets the sheriff
the body found late that afternoon
the dead man seemed to like his poker
in the towns seedy saloon.
the sheriff pushes back the slumped over gambler
to see the dead man's fate
two in the chest, one in the head
funny, the deputy chuckled, he was holding five eights.
The gunslinger rides north
it's been hours since the cheaters fate had been sealed
it's a half a day's ride to tombstone
there he'll pay for a woman and a meal.
but for now, he'll stop, build a fire
and listen to the coyote's sing
this is the life of a gunslinger
haunted by wanted posters
and what tomorrow may bring.
Copyright © Kurt Kohls |
Copyright © Kurt Kohls | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment