A Sweet, One Man Parade
by Randy D. Rubin
I hear his heavy horse’s hooves ‘clo-clop clo-cloppin’
toward my house. He’s only mine at night.
He’s a long tall drink of cool, with glacier blue eyes and icy water in his veins.
He’s what passes for “The Law” ‘round these parts; a sweet, one man parade. Now his spurs are singing that slow sensual song of evening, each ‘ZHing-zha-ZHing’
I’ve held him, bathed him, sewed up his shirts. I’ve fed him, bled him, bed him and hopefully misled him. Both barrels should behead him.
He don’t even know… that long ago…’click-click’… he killed my only son.