Bull Ride

Bull Ride


The kid
He's the hottest thing on the circuit
Every nickel he touches
turns into a dollar
Still, he's got to get it up in the morning
And get it out there in the afternoon

There isn't a joint that don't ache
His torn tendon won't heal
and he's lost count of the stitches and scars
But he climbs the chute anyway

The grimace on the kid's face ain't fear
It's determination
He's an annoying gnat in a cowboy hat
hunkering down on the horns of a dilemma
tied astride a ton of bad attitude
Old Dead Eye
A pure mean brahma
2,000 pounds of power and wisdom
A slinky with a hump in it
The kid cinches the rope tight
a suicide loop sealed with warm resin

They pull the gate
The kid goes to a kicking and a scratching
Reaching for the devil with his feet
Looking to the lord with his eyes

It's a bullet start
with a rocket finish
Fake to the left
Jump back to the right
In the middle of it all
Ole' Dead Eye goes to a wigglin' and a wobblin'
Right hip follows left jaw
A little belly roll at the front
And the bottom drops out

The kid is sitting back on his pockets
And gets thrown over his buckle
Slam dunked in the arena mud
The air disappears from his lungs
There's a taste of dust and blood
Eyes tear, the vision blurs
As four hooves of wrath
descend from the heavens above

And Tylenol's not going to get rid
of the hurt this time


Poem © 1996-7 Calvin Daniels