Old Guns

[couchgrouch]

Old GunsThey made love soft n gentleone floor over Sonny's barthen Sara pulled on her stockingsand Bill puffed a penny cigarSara grabbed rusty bucketsand poured Bill a steaming tubhis gunbelt hung within reachwhile she gave him shoulder rubsthen he told her old stories, filled with thiev'ry and gloryabout outrunning badges and smoking gunsfour pals robbing Wells Fargo, of payrolls and cargoand how hell was taking them one by oneCole shot his way from El Pasocos he'd sooner die on the trailthan hear hammers making his gallowsthrough a small window in jailbut that posse found an oak treeand let his prayers prove his guiltthen hung Cole from a gallowsit took an acorn years to buildand the winds of west Texas, are well-fed but restlessthey spit sand on his body and facecos the sands of the desert, are the crumbs of foreverleft for wind and bones to tasteSara felt for hearts of robberscos she hated bein' a whorejar of nickels in her closetshe'd saved to open a storeshe knew old Sonny loved herand though he ran a clean saloonhe was toothless and young Sarawouldn't touch him for gold dubloonsshe heard how Seth was gutshot, with two barrels of buckshotand left to die by a snowy creekBill said outlaws are destined, to have their intestinespicked at by cold, cruel beaksChester quit the life and marriedtook out a loan to farmbut some banker swindled his acresand let bats take over his barnhis bride ran back to her folkshe stared hard at his forty-fivefarming was an honest livingbut didn't feel like being aliveso he rustled in Nebraska, then claim jumped in Alaskafound ten ounces of gold in a trunkbounty hunter with a dogsled, hot whiskey in a hogs-headat least poor Chester died drunkwell, Bill finished his storiesand closed his weary eyes to restSara yanked an iron from his holsterand shot Bill twice in the chesthe moaned hello to Chesterhis cigar locked in his teeththen the water filled with rosesas Bill slipped underneathSara took that bounty money, made sweet love to Sonnyfor free her last night as a whorebought two rounds of cold ones, and Bill's tired old gunswere the first sale in her general store(c)2005 Robert George