THE FULL MOON CAFE

The desert highway shimmered in the heat,
then stretched out behind the "FULL MOON CAFÉ".
The dust kicked up to sting the eye
like a rattle-bite,
while the sagebrush tumbled down
and piled up to fill the gully's
and stem the flow of blood and guts;
foulin the air with a rancid stink
like a cowboys boot.

"HEY PARTNER, WHERE YOU GOING?"

"OUT PAST HELLS GATE,
AND THE DEVILS GUIDIN MY WAY"

So with a "Giddy-Up" and a kick in the flanks,
his horse reared up like a muscled godshead
and galloped off through a hazy brown cloud.
The sound of his spurs hung in the air
like a frontier marchin band.

The silence closed in,,,
Drop-dead desolation descended,
like velvet curtains from an old western drama,
where fantasy's reigned like golden nuggets
glittering in a prospectors shiny pan,
or like the crooked grin of a stagecoach driver
who's partner rides shotgun;
his rusty barrel aloft and lookin back
at the "FULL MOON CAFÉ",
and the shimmerin highway stretched out beyond.