| Lonesome Cowboy It was loud and noisy. Smoke hovered in the air as I watched the drops running down the bottle. Drops of tears. Not from the smoke, just tears. Alone as the music played and couples I didn�t see, dancing the night away. Hats and boots flying across the floor while mine was tilted back and the boots lay on each other under the table. I could almost see her even with my eyes open from those many years ago. Laughing and whirling each other around to the steel guitar. My hand on her waist as we danced close, her face on my chest content and dreaming her thoughts. Her soft hair against my cheek and acting like we were the only two in the place. My ashtray running over with burnt butts piled deep among the empty bottles. Then I saw her. I thought she might be back. Yeah back. Back with another stranger this time. I watched as they waited for the beer. After it came a few drinks later and they were on the floor dancing. Dancing like we used to. His hand held her tight and her body up against his. Another tear fell. Our marriage had been over for years. Hers had anyway. I still had the hope. A senseless hope that someday we might make it again, but I knew it would never be. No one saw me pull the pistol from under my coat and point it. No one saw me as I squeezed the trigger. But everyone heard it and saw the body as it hit the floor. Someone took the gun from my hand and others screamed and some ran. There were still tears in my eyes when they came. Sirens blasted the night air outside and red and blue lights danced off the walls and other cars and trucks in the parking lot. The band had stopped but now began playing again. A slow waltz. "Waltz across Texas with me" it played but I never heard it. The night was cool when they took me outside and put me in the back. Tied up and quiet, now I rode alone. That�s the way a cowboy is most of his life, alone. Free to ride the open range, free to sit around a campfire looking into the blaze. Fire watcher. That�s what the indians used to call it. Hugging a slicker close as the north wind cut through you like knives and a hat pulled down over your ears sometimes tied with a bandanna. Hunkered down in the saddle on a rainy night hoping thunder and lightning didn�t stampede the herd. Bawling calves looking for their mama. All this was behind me now. no more free range. No more wind and rain. No more fire gazing. No more. The ambulance pulled in beside the police car. They opened the back doors and pulled the zipped body bag from inside unfolded the legs and pushed it in through the double doors. The cop followed them inside. He stood as they unzipped the bag and they did some preliminary tests. Then the doctor pulled the tubes from his ears, zipped the bag back up and shook his head. The cop turned and walked away. Her eyes were still blue and her hair still golden but I never saw them. It was dark in the black bag and she was gone now. The room was cold I was taken to. No one spoke. They took my finger prints and my pockets were searched and emptied. They took my clothes and put them in a labeled bag took it and left. Leaving me all alone in the room. She came and they pulled back the sheet. She looked, nodded her head and turned. Not a tear one shed. Not a whimper or a cry. Just a grim blank look as she signed the paper on the clipboard and left. But I never saw it through closed eyes. Vision Quest � 2002 T Lovett |