Tribal Legend

• He Awoke Smelling The Sounds of Sizzling Bacon
• the eggs, over easy, big buttered biscuits
• the hot cakes, smothered in maple syrup
• the slop, slot opened, he acted as if he wasn’t awakened
• smelled so good, ah the aroma, but it didn’t taste the same
• he wondered, was he actually guilty of murder or shame
• hmm, was it the heifer he killed when he was hungry
• livestock homicide, can lead to capital punishment
• or three men for not paying his gambling money
• or the Horse he stole, when his fell dead
• was the little blue eye-blond child he raped and mangled
• maybe the redhead, he dragged, screaming to bed
• or the cowpoke he ambushed with a throat cut
• when he said his table money, he wouldn’t give up
• memories, man its lunch time, slop slot slams open again
• mashed creamy potatoes, steak this time. no bacon,
• peas, corn on the cob, gravy, cornbread
• smelled like Momma’s making,
• dreamy again, shooting the 19 year old
• gunslinger in the back, boy he was bold
• wanting to fight a veteran, of The Civil War
• In-jun Wars, a man who survived houses of whores
• raped women, like he brushed his teeth
• ending with a spit, then a good shit
• sometimes he knew water, but it seldom knew him
• unless came cross a creek and went for a swim
• hot coffee, that’s the last thing they’ll give me,
• the preacher, trembling, came in to pray
• he spat on Amen and ran him away
• 21 steps, 21, he had killed that many
• with his first gun, a war veteran teenager
• no job, just a hire on, with deadly skills
• hardly a Life, but pays the bills
• when you can find work
• but it’s the killin’ work that finds you
• pays the best too, any last word
• the same as his firsts, fuck you
• throat dry, can’t cry, about to die, out
• only thing he remembered, was slam
• flying, feet never touching the ground
• no pain, just shock, intense white Light
• then Blackness, taking him homeward bound…R.D.Revilo