Finding His Inner Cowboy

He often felt he was born in the wrong era.

He would have preferred to say

“ I have no truck with you mister”

than “ I am unfriending you on face book”.

He wished at times he was one of those rugged

steel eyed quiet men sitting around

a card table in a saloon  at the

turn of the last century  in black tailored suit

stiff white collar and boa  steer horn tie

with a buxom barmaid on his arm

and a six shooter strapped to his hip.

It is a dark fearful time when the handlebar

moustache gives way to the man bun.

There should be no-one to defend us from

the marauding Huns.

Derek Earl Houghton