Tim Pfau
bwband3b

A Cowboy Poet Replies

I was a‘riding high in the passes
through autumn hues and sweet yellow grasses,
when memories rose, fogging my glasses
of my old darlings, Wyoming lasses.

Raised on prairies by drunken coyotes
reading Ayn Rands, Vidals and Capotes,
they lassoed herds of cowboy devotees
to give broken hearts and mild STDs.

Why oh why-o did I leave my Wyo?
Yippie-ki-yay it was just yesterday.
Don’t worry none, pards, just leave me alone
she’s my misfortune and none of your own.

Liquor sparkled like daisies in moonlight.
Oh, how they laughed when cowboys would fist fight
over who’d take them home and ride hard that night
thighs that could hold any horse or guy tight.

“Home’s where the hard is” was our lullaby
sung soft in their ears as evenings passed by
in peaks and valleys that left our mouths dry
‘till they strolled off with some other guy.

Why oh why-o did I leave my Wyo?
Yippie ki yay it was just yesterday.
Don’t worry none, pards, just leave me alone
she’s my misfortune and none of your own.

Testing or jesting, they rode us real rough,
of spurs, bits and saddles I’d had enough.
I rode to the sunsets for other stuff
wearing a bandana, trying to look tough.

The years have flown by and life traveled on
Those fiery days have long faded and gone,
I hope they’re wrapped up in happy grandkids
forgetting me and other young bandits.

Why oh why-o did I leave my Wyo?
Yippie ki yay it was just yesterday.
What brought to mind that butt and her rack,
that girl who climbed up and then broke my back?


high4

Tim Pfau is a story teller in Salem, Oregon. He grew up in Wyoming during the 1950s. His poetry was first published in Canopic Jar 24 and his poems have also appeared in Canopic Jar 27, Concelebratory Shoehorn Review, The Toucan, Gold Man Review, Eyesocket Journal, shows, newspapers and anthologies.  He has received one Pushcart nomination and served on the Board of the Oregon Poetry Association.