Tumbleweed Roundup
The posse had gathered
in the emptiest part of town.
Even the dust looked bored.
It was not like there was
enough sentencing to go round
to make a paragraph.
Maybe the Indian Wars
would finally steamroller the pioneers.
All that learnin' foa what?
The Community wanted a lynching
before they knew who did it.
Thankyou for your narrative interest in this position
but we regret to inform you...
Mixed or miffed genres
the Sheriff knew he was up against it -
maybe today he'd name his target, but
no, he wasn't to show his hand
until well after midnight, at which time
the intruder would have left holding nothing
but a kitchen sink -
tho Wild Bill was up on the roof
Bonnie was staking out the front door
and Killjoy Finch had a measure
on Forms. Turnip had planned
a tripartite brochure
to keep the town straighttalking
and Old Quickdraw was gettin' optimised
in a dream of a passive tense.
If the World cometh to our door
if the world were the word? ventured the Preacher.
All eyes turned to him who had once before
and only once proffered sage advice.
Charlie Chan took notes (there was
a suspicious Elsewhere about him - that
he might steal the patents
or spontaneously combust
with song and he wasn't even drunk,
not yet, not ever).
poem by Adam Aitken
Added by Poetry Lover
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