End of the Open Range by Jared OrlandoNo rougher man has ever existed
Beyond the dry dust bowl circling
The outskirts of a Nevada valley
Where leather skin rebels let their
Whiskey breath travel on top of their
Gruff tall tale voices; one face as tattered
As the boots on one’s feet, says
“It’s all a-carin’ about nothin’ that
Makes ya feel somethin’”
Small vignettes of thought
Escaping out of tightly chapped lips
“Anything goes,” under eyes
That have seen enough to
Write endless volumes, as dusty
As their wide ten gallon Stetson; with
A singe of a rodeo sun blushing the
Cheeks of a lone cowboy
As trusting as a jack rabbit,
One destined for nowhere slowly
With toothpick-picked teeth,
They must all run straight into
A sunset somewhere, kicking up
Dust right before the credits roll in.
05/24/2010 Posted on 05/25/2010 Copyright © 2024 Jared Orlando
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