Poor Souls

Painting by Chris Owen


Poor Souls

Some say the cowboy
is passé, gone the way
of buggy, quill and candle;

that the only chaps now
are buckled to the dust-
collecting legs

of mannequins in museums,
draping the dreamlike
bones of legend.

Poor souls, these highfalutin
ignoramuses, who,
speeding down the interstate

through far West Texas,
miss Marfa, Alpine,
Ft. Davis and Marathon

and their out-of-the-way
cafes abuzz each daybreak
with the drawled price of cattle

and the dull luminosity
of tarnished silver
spur-jangle.


© Larry Thomas

Posted over on Cowboy Poetry