The Strangest Dream

Last night I had the strangest dream.

The sun scorched my shoulders
And dust choked my throat.
Hot anger surged my veins
And I had murder in my heart.

The weight of a new Colt settled on my hip.
My fingers clenched and relaxed
Clenched and relaxed
Waiting for my foe
To make his appearance.

Time can be as lead
Waiting to die.

I put the sun behind me
To blaze the eyes of the man
I hoped to kill.

Mama said “Don’t go, son.
Let it rest boy.”
But some things are hard to let go.

I waited in the dusty street.
Marked for
A corpse or a legend.
Soon and very soon
I would be one
Or the other.
But legend it was for me
I was sure.

Last night I had the strangest dream.

Pushing through the swinging doors
Of a hard scramble saloon he came
Eyes on me at his first step.
He was heeled with a tie-down holster
And a Remington with ivory grips
The gold of a watch chain
Flashing from his vest.

We faced off not fifteen feet apart
And he seemed not as scared as me.
In fact he seemed bored.

“Go on home boy,” said he
Even as he slapped leather.

How bright the sun is
When you stare right at it
And how dusty the streets
With all that pooling blood.
From where did it all come?
Is dying really so painless
And easy?
And what will mama do now?

Last night I had the strangest dream.