I went to your memorial last Thursday
but you were not there
in your place was an old photo
you on your horse
full head of poorly cut hair
accidentally hip.
The woman spoke about energy, afterlife
and rejoining your ancestors.
While we bowed our heads
you reached into your holster
drew your revolver
and took pot shots.
If you didn’t want your bronzed baby booties displayed in public
you should’ve mentioned it while you had the chance, cowboy.
Published in little bang, Volume 1, Number 1, 2008
