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Rolled By HandAt the end of the bar sat an old cowpokethough his knuckles were swollen he finished rollin a smokeI offered a light but my fancy piece didn't sparkso he lit up after scratchin a match on the barwhen I smiled and asked why he rolled his ownhe said, "son, on the plains there's lotsa thangs you do aloneleanin on others just makes a man weakerand fresh tobacco tastes so much sweeterso if my vice is gonna do me inI prefer my sinrolled by handthat's just how I amtrust me friend I got nothing againststorebought brandsones made by machines may burn clean and evenbut mister things I believe inare rolled by hand"I useta be the typeproud of my laptop and pinstripestill I asked if he regretted life in the saddleand he said "chair jockeys were the real cattlefightin love handles n fading hairlineswith trips to Reno on budget airlines"then he stubbed out a buttand growled, "those guys are all belly no gutscos bunkhouse games are wilder than any in Renowith a pair of eights in Sante Fe I won a golden Palaminoso maybe my days are more ash than cigarettebut till I'm deadthey're rolled by handthat's just how I amtrust me friend I got nothing againststorebought brandsones made by machines may burn clean evenbut mister the life I believe inis rolled by hand"I went back to my high rise and cleaned my deskI learned a man dies without any risklife is rolled by the hands of time, and that's fine by mecos the choice is mine whether it'll berolled by handrolled by hand(c)2006 Robert George