as the sheriff

the man’s been sliced through three times
— and with reason
aloof is not a free pass
still he walks like the sun is just rising

I wait for the signal that’s coming
a hand shifting to his holster
a motion calling his horse
so, as the sheriff, I haul him to the station
before he’s stopped smiling
read him his wrongs
slam the cage shut

it’s just a fact though
the man’s a stag
he extends long legs in his cell

I keep expecting
to see his boots kick up dirt in a proposition
reminding me who runs this town

but the man is not trying to duel
he’s forgotten his hat and his drawl
and this badge will stay mine
i’ll continue to patrol 1881
not noticing
until way later
that he smells like a new frontier