Cowboys

Cowboys tell rhythmic tales and

try to make me laugh with their

talk about how they’re tough as nails.

 

They often tell of their love for fast

horses, cows, steers and most of

all, the beans they ate for dinner.

 

They sing about the stars above and

the wide open plains they ride upon

making their lives better than all the rest.

 

At the end of a hardscrabble day, they

gather like hornets in a nest and stories

about how hard they work, women they

lost and money they never had abound.

 

Sitting on the ground romantic stories

they tell make me dream of  becoming

one of them, and I know I’d fit right in

when I begin.

 

I’ve lost every woman I ever had almost

as fast as I lost every cent I ever earned,

and never learned how to make any return,

so don’t be concerned, I’ve got a story to tell too.

 

Her eyes were round and dark brown. Staring into

them always sent my hormones rushing to a

cooler place because they’d catch fire

when she was around.

 

I couldn’t control my heart strings that vibrated

like wings when she came near and rubbed

her rump against me like she wanted to hump.

That gave me a lump that I tried to control.

 

Bless my soul, It wasn’t right that a married man

like me would have such an urge, but one day I

could no longer resist and took her into the barn

and had her assist me in closing the door.

 

We rubbed noses and then I grabbed her tits.

Moving behind her, I fulfilled my burning urge

and would have done it again if my wife hadn’t

opened the door and asked,

 

Why are you doing it with a cow when you have me?

Compared to her, the cow was svelte, she smelled

sweeter and her hair was neater.

 

I no longer have a home, but do own a guitar, a horse

and a cow that I love more than my wife. So you

see, I can compete with stories told by other cowboys

like me.

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