conversation of an old gun slinger

If you are to go to town
with guns
don’t cock the half
don’t chamber 6 rounds
5 is the correct measure

That space is to think
and safety before the draw
but, son let me ring
the coffin man
‘you’re about 5’ 9 right’

you’ve heard the song
of the mothers grieving
why not heed to the
inevitability of your outcome
know and read it on every one
of my scars, near orphan boy

Still if you’re darn set on
this action, let me ring
the florist an’ the pallbearers
an’ ready you’re mother
with strong brandy

Write a will to your
dear gal, that you’ll
no longer be callin’
at her door, leave
all possessions to the poor

Who would be wiser
in their use, pawnin’
guns for food, bullets for bread

But if you insist on guns to town
let I, order my suit an’ call the law man
to read at you’re funeral


4 thoughts on “conversation of an old gun slinger”

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