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About Paul Thompson



Cowboy Up

had me one of those yeehaws, once
drew her at the Friday night rodeo
didn’t know the filly
folks said she was a wild ride

I gentled her down a bit
ran my hands over her
talked real sweet to her
took some time with her

when she took to me
I got on real slow like
eased right into the sweet spot
we got to know each other

she got her legs up under her
I knew it was a go
we had a winning ride
they called time on me

work moved me on
I never drew her again
heard she moved on
wish I knew that filly’s name

© 2011, Paul Thompson
This poem may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.




  About Paul Thompson:
provided 2011

The old cowboy sits in the far back of the room listening to the gal with the big Gibson singing Patsy Cline and thinking: about his days as a teen-aged Recon Marine in the jungles on Viet Nam where life was so cheap and he took so many, about his year in solitary as a POW in Cambodia and two more lives that gave him escape, about his return to the VA hospital and the country he served where he became an outcast for his answer to a call to duty, about all the loving hearts that he broke because he yet knew no better and could then give no more.  The cowboy’s gone, his whisky neat untouched sits alone at his table—“I walk for miles along the highway, well that’s just my way of saying I love you.”



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