Something about a long blue Oldsmobile
with Kansas City plates
makes a man in a red CO-OP hat
drive his tractor down the middle of the road.
“Go slow,” she tells me. “In Peabody, Kinsley and Offerle,
they still have hanging judges.”
Tumbleweeds chase us like dustblown posses
all the way to Dodge City
where the lock up for licker is nine.
We roll softly through the center of town,
headed for the Silver Spur Lodge,
1510 Wyatt Earp Blvd.
Inside our room a notice taped to the door
tells all us nice folks:
“YOUR DAY ENDS AT 12 O’CLOCK NOON.”
“Tomorrow,” she says, “we’ll go meet mother.”
Next thing, we hear semi’s thumping by.
The travel alarm reads 12:36 PM.
We sit on the edge of the bed,
naked and soaked with love,
waiting for the sheriff to come.