Marshall Dillon thinks,
Fuck this.
How did everybody's problem become my problem?
His trigger finger hurts
And he's out of Alleve.
He gets in his Toyota and heads out of town,
Leaving Dodge City to the alley cats.
As he drives through the desert,
There are three coyotes watching from a ridge.
One is Freedom,
The second is Sorrow.
The third may have been a cactus, or a bird.
Oh, fold me in your great dark wings, thinks Marshall Dillon.
I am sick of dust
And this stupid leather vest.
After several hours, as the morning rises behind him,
The Marshall pulls over to stretch his back.
He takes off his silver star and tosses it into the lightening sky;
On its descent, it intersects perfectly with the yellow face of the sun.
"Just like Little Sure Shot," runs through his melting mind like a one-off hit by The Music Explosion.
No one ever sees Marshall Dillon again.
_______________________
(image by david son of lone wolf wagner)
This is way cool!
ReplyDeleteI like this one
ReplyDeleteMama Zen, will you please write the blurb for my book, if I ever get one published? pleeeeeease?
ReplyDeleteBlackbird, thanks and welcome to The Word garden!
Poor old Marshall Dillon, seems everyone has their breaking point, even him.
ReplyDeleteDid he change his name and adopt a new, more fufilling career? I sure hope so.
Off to new horizons, breaking free into new possibility!
ReplyDeleteThat was just damn cool. Poor old Marshall.
ReplyDeleteActually, I saw this poem in the way that Gillian did. I saw him as being set free.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, the one-off hit by The Music Explosion was "A Little Bit Of Soul", which reached #2 in 1967. It's on the music player here, down near the bottom. ;-)
I saw the Marshall as finding his. But that's the beauty of poetry...each poem means what it means to the person reading it.
Funny girl! Loved it.
ReplyDeleteHehe, glad you liked it, Tex. :-)
ReplyDelete