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short fiction  short poetry  short commentary  short...uh..art
 

 

     
  Joseph R. Trombatore

The time I busted my knee open

 


& walked like Chester for a month
summer of '65
never did get that Gunsmoke script
in the mail
I expected
phone calls during earthquake drills
guidelines for a
Dodge City drawl
how to pan for gold with a bum hand
I'd practice with mirrors
angles of my cowboy hat
I'd get me some
genuine Mexican spurs
walk up to Miss Kitty
real tuff like
&
slam down a Morgan
for a shot of buzz

 


 

 

 

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