THE FULL MOON CAFE

,velvet curtains from an old western drama, where fantasy's reigned like golden nuggets,

The desert highway shimmered in the heat,
then stretched out behind the "FULL MOON CAFÉ".
The dust kicked up to sting the eye
like a rattle-bite,
while the sagebrush tumbled down
and piled up to fill the gully's
and stem the flow of blood and guts;
foulin the air with a rancid stink
like a cowboys boot.

"HEY PARTNER, WHERE YOU GOING?"

"OUT PAST HELLS GATE,
AND THE DEVILS GUIDIN MY WAY"

So with a "Giddy-Up" and a kick in the flanks,
his horse reared up like a muscled godshead
and galloped off through a hazy brown cloud.
The sound of his spurs hung in the air
like a frontier marchin band.

The silence closed in,,,
Drop-dead desolation descended,
like velvet curtains from an old western drama,
where fantasy's reigned like golden nuggets
glittering in a prospectors shiny pan,
or like the crooked grin of a stagecoach driver
who's partner rides shotgun;
his rusty barrel aloft and lookin back
at the "FULL MOON CAFÉ",
and the shimmerin highway stretched out beyond.