Night Terrors

the death of the last cowboy,
riding the plains,
with leather bound book
hanging from his neck,
where every incident worth recording,
is done with the uttermost importance.
he who falls last,
settles the dust.
the great prize fighter,
fighting himself.
the lone gunmen,
wishing someone would shoot him.
the plastic woman,
wishing someone would give her life.
the scotch in glass,
waiting for me to drink it.
the lonely cock,
smashed, bruised and bloody,
rolling around in the back seat,
with no one to play with.
the bank teller,
on welfare.
and the hopeless
watching the sky.