Cowboys and Space
I always thought I wanted to live in the past,
until I saw my first cowboy movie and realized
that if I did live in the past, I would be beat up,
knocked down (in the mud) shot or shot at (or both),
kicked in the shins, wear a hat that was too small
because my head is so big, make clinking sounds
when I walked, have to learn how to shoot a gun
without hurting myself, give up my fridge, have to
pretend to like whiskey, stop bathing, eat bear,
say “reckon", grow a stupid-looking mustache,
have pants that were droopy, be made to dance
among reckless gunplay, be sunburnt all the time
and fall down off a horse and the ladies on the dusty
boardwalks would giggle at me and also I wouldn’t
have a radio or a bicycle that was cool looking, just one
of those old cruddy bicycles and no radio, and not even
a bicycle at all if one of the times I was shot I was shot
dead and even then by someone who probably wasn’t
called "The Kid" or "Johnny Ringo" - most likely
“Hubert" or "Fred." Now I am not saying I am happy
that I am living in the present, but now that I think
about the past I don’t think the past would be so great either.
So that just leaves the future. With jetpacks.
And space food. And hover baths. You know, already,
I see a problem with this.
About the Author: Ricky Garni grew up in Miami and Maine. He works as a graphic designer by day and writes music by night. His latest collection, The Tablets of Domino, will be released this Spring.