Cowboys and Space
Ricky Garni 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. |
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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.