. . . . . .

nonlinear thought appeals to me
& as i read the quick lines chatted

upon in the little poetry book used
as filler on the decorative table

to see the title at the end amused me
took away the presuppositions we

all muster

i am reminded of the last western
i read - that Louis D. L'Amour*

where tiny papers were scattered
into the wilderness after a long day

of cooking, cleaning, feeding
hands raw from scrubbing - then

a line or two

sent out to reach all the others
lost among the herds and found

his protagonist, his male hero
fell short of the battles read before

his knighthood was short lived
as he felt his dignity wither layer

by layer

winter, spring, summer, fall again
and again - he came upon the stage

station to wait as she scrubbed and
cleaned and fed: his thoughts were

go south, go west

just go

and as he stepped out he turned and
he spoke - i can stay, i can fix, i can

help, and she said you can stay and
you can fix, and you can help. stay

what can it hurt

and i don't recall how it all ended
i just know the protagonist discovered

that those little papers he found
among the rocks and weeds

came from her

Conagher: A novel by Louis D. L'Amour

"some dried up and turned to dust and the wind took the dust away." Conagher: A novel by Louis D. L'Amour