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Wild West by Paul Garner I left town by the light of the morning as honky tonk rays pushed me West against the breeze. "Come back!" too long gone though, I steeered the cart erratically as my mule was dead three years or more. The sound of Southern belles a-ringin' nearly distracted me and for a moment it seemed as if the tumbleweeds were standing still as we rolled backwards. Beware of broken axles, and always carry a spare. Fearsome canyons billowed up on either side, rock too chalk-red a colour to name, and I gave in to the sweet happy despair of wonder. Spanish guitars and bandito violins twanged and stretched a swinging bridge out across the gully, a river of dry salt waiting to be conquered below, and we dared each other to cross. To this day I'm still lost... Back Copyright © 2002 - Paul Garner. |
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