Towards Better Democracy

Good words, well written, better the world. Good literature betters the world immeasurably.

Dry Creek River

All day long I’ve been lying at home
Listening to the wind and the rain.
All day long, whistling this song
Wish I were out in the gulch
Down by the Dry Creek River.

“Look at you lying there
You’re disgusting
You just lie around
You’re useless.
I’ve shouted myself hoarse
You used to be a man
I’ve fuckin’ had enough.”

The door slams
Shakes the bed
The empty bottles
Rattle on the floor.

All night long I’ve been tossing in the bed
Dreaming of her,
Wishing she were here.

I’d whistle that song, but I hear the train
That cowbell sounds
Tolling through the night.
I loved the life I led
Gave it up for her instead
All those horses, wild, untamed
Rearing up, clinging for your life
I miss the boys, the thump of the herd.

All this time I’ve been thinking that she’ll come
I’ve waited and I’ve waited, no word from her.
I’m as lonely as that coyote howling out there.
Perhaps she’ll surprise me,
I’ll hear the key in the latch.

I’m on my own out here
And that’s OK
Riding the range

With just the herd.
And the horses well bred
Rancher I’m not
Rodeo’s where I belong.
But I get to go home
And she’ll be there.

Seems like a year, been far too long
She left me in tears,
Wouldn’t listen any more
To my loving and my pleadings,
“I won’t drink any more.”

Now wrestling the steers
Helps keep me fit
But they’re far too tame
They don’t match horses
Who outwit you every time.

OK, I’m now dry. As dry
As that Dry Creek river out there
But she won’t know.

Malcolm D B Munro
10 January, 2016



Filed under: art, Literature, Media, Music, poetry, songs, stories

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