she gotta be mine

“There’s an Old West saying that if you stole a man’s horse, you had condemned him to death…”

In 1824, I wer hung, hung out wit hemp thick as Nellie’s mane
but twice as deadly ‘n ten times as quick to ther choke
they dun hung me, dried boots ‘n all widout a reckon ‘o my side pockits
my neck it snapped ‘n dat fucker hurt sum, befer the snappin,’ not after
I dun stole a man’s horse, a white gorgiss thin’ wit sharp fetlock ‘n marble eyes
don’t know what made me do thar impulse
wuz her Godful beauty, I’m a certin
ain’t no crime in thar, stealin’ wutz perfict
do ya know wutz ’tis a see’in that Godful beauty ‘n not hold’n it
not bein part ridin’ in that sunset after dem saloon duz kick yer hide inta the sand
they dun hung me out thar, hung me out ta dry ’til I very, very disgustin’ly die, yup dem basters
black crows a diggin’ at my sockets ‘n balz

a beaten white station wagon, the last white stallion in this town
she’s in my rear view mirror, prancing on the hill
just admiring her I am
my eyes flapping faster than wicked-quick saloon doors
the white beauty of a generation long since past
men were men, at least that’s what my dad was and is
my elegant mom, remaining a woman who transcends time
so many white horses chasing down the freeway, miles of galloping herds
so many it’s impossible to believe they will ever disappear
lightning white buffaloes by the thousands
and there she is, the sexy white wagon, long and sure as sugar
Custer’s battle scars, blood-rusting her panels, but she’s still smokin’
revving that big engine, purrin’ like a puma
at times, she breathes smoke to wake the dead
I hear tiny family fannies sliding across her vinyl bench seats
all the way to the Catskills
to the Jersey shore
to Vermont’s Green Mountains where her body plays with light
my SUV is climate-controlled, too controlled
Oh, here she comes, the last unicorn
driving by, I’m a body ensconced in sealed air
stuck behind tempered glass, I can’t caress her hide
she knows nothing of tightness, she has always been free
a drop of air escapes my lungs
a grain of water falls from my eye
I feel the hangman’s noose a callin’
come ‘n git me ya dem basters
I seen dat dar white beauty ‘n she gotta be mine

painting dun painted when I be a kid, ta small fer dem dar saloons


13 thoughts on “she gotta be mine

  1. Beautiful work AnnMarie. Went on a very long walk got my sugar to 128 but then it went back up because I had to eat my dinner and whatever I eat for a meal spikes. I got just 3 more days to hang in. I wrote a great introduction to ‘Friday The 13th 2’ a great continuation. It needs a strong start and I added 3 friends that are strong characters to the story to make it different while still using the surviving cast. I really think this one has a shot at being better than the first book. It’s got a lot of great characters and has the hook of no one knowing who might the killer be and the connection. Hope you had a good Sunday! AnnMarie=Number One!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I can tell how much you enjoyed writing this piece, AM. The word-play is so fun, creative, and I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve managed to bridge two worlds, two histories, and it’s wonderful to witness that connection. (I felt as though I was right there with you looking out the rearview mirror at the station wagon.) 🙂 And I have to say about the art: how amazing – done when you were just a kid – it shows your enormous talent even then.

    Liked by 1 person

    • oh, DS
      this was so much fun, I musta read this fifty times – I kept laughing the entire time
      station wagons stay in the back of my kid brain – at one time they numbers in the billions😉
      thank you

      Liked by 1 person

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