the fox admitted
he wanted to be a cowboy
complete with boots
denim jeans & chaps
embroidered shirt
& stetson hat
when asked
why he had a fascination
with cowboys
the fox alluded to
an intense desire
to live the romantic life
march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
aiming his colt forty-five
directly down her neck
[perpendicular to the front of the skull]
the cowboy shot his horse dead
the muscles throughout his body
contracting just like hers
lasting less than 30 seconds
—as if choreographed
the two of them collapsed to the dirt
she as silent as the night
he sobbing uncontrollably
nothing but a shadow of his former self
february two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
yet again changing roles
the actor moves stealthily
like a chameleon
minted coins jingling
in her pocket
sounding like stars
on dusty boots
yesterday it was bows
& arrows (and a bunch
of nonsense)
but come high noon
only silence will prevail
toting headphones
to the shooting range
tomorrow never did
arrive for this cowboy
although opportunity
constantly persisted
& that’s all that mattered
in the dark world
of make-believe
july two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how many cowboys do you know
you’d probably be surprised
how they add up
coming in & out of your life over the years
whether on the big or little screen
in real life at the stables or rodeos
road tripping through the northern plains
when I was a kid we played
cowboys & indians
innocence at its worst and finest
getting sunburned under the july sun
your mother unconcerned about skin cancer
or historical facts
palm on face flipping through history books
bored to death in the classroom
listening to cowboy songs on the radio
turning the mundane into romance
the cowboy in the wild wild west
the cowboy in manhattan
the cowboy in hollywood california
june two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
back in the day I used to hang
out with Clint
back when we got involved
with those spaghetti westerns
there was hardly ever any
high drama on the set
seasoned cowboys rehearsing
their lines and showcasing
well worn snakeskin boots
spitting tobacco on spiders
and squinting into the sun
I mostly sat in a high chair
fans blowing on my face
my voice occasionally
barking out instructions
but for the most part things
played out on their own
july two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
they whooped and hollered
every time the preacher said amen
their guns at their side
fully loaded
anxious to pull them
out of their holsters
whoa my wayward boys
the preacher bemoaned
thou shalt not keep thy fingers on
thy handles
and take hold the truth
within the good book instead
the cowboys coughed
and held their hands together
fingers twitching and praying
for the preacher
to give them good reason
not to raise the roof
march two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there’s something about the color red
that makes everything go so fast
as fast as jack rabbits
launched into space
using supersonic wrist rockets
red rockets launch into orbit
from the back yard
blasted by homemade boosters
consigned to corral space junk
circling the planet
for what seems like a millennium
old-time rocket man rocks
on the front porch
cloaked in his red suit
and plucking his guitar
reminiscing outlandishly
about space cowboys
september two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
A team of urban gauchos
surround a wandering cow
on a colorful street in Delhi
the sacred animal managing
to snarl traffic for over an hour
The arrival of city-hired cowboys
with their oversized truck
and ropes and bells
bring applause and protests
by the neighboring swarm
of residents and tourists
Calls of instructions compete
with the constant honking of horns
some warning the cowhands
not to harm the beast
while others suggest transporting her
to the nearest butcher shop
Eventually the cow catchers
convince their newfound friend
to mosey up the plank
and into the truck bed
casually whispering into her ear
the grass is much greener
outside the city
october, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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