Sometimes when I see him
in his black cowboy shirt
shining belt buckle
handsome chiseled jaw
I think I’d give it all up for him
I could live like this
out here
with the prairie dogs
and antelope skulls
the paint mines
the new rodeo and auction
I could live among the closed minded baptists
with their fire and brimstone preachers
with the owls that swoop low
over the fields at night
over the long highway
occasionally dotted with
a tree
a house
a windmill.
So quiet
spacious
majestic
lonely.
I could make my place here
not missing for one minute
all that I’d left behind.
For him
with him
I could do anything.