Comic Book West
If you know my name, I ain’t wasting time
with introductions: Kid Colt, Kid Durango.
My pistol drawn, cocked and aimed:
Drop it, outlaw: mustache, eye patch,
tinted skin, oily grin. I’m a future legend,
I wield a bullet-speedy whip, watch me
lasso my lesser’s slower-paced revolver.
His bullet nearly nicks an ear, guess I needed
the shave. Smiles reveal rotten teeth, bandits
who cavort with the wrong kind of dentists.
Dust trails buffalo out across the teepee frontier.
I’m left holding sacks of loot, hero framed
and jailed. Cold sweat: jump cut to sweet
cream hands, my Delilah, burning
front porch candles, smoothing apron folds.
***
Keith Ekiss’s first collection of poems, Pima Road Notebook, will be published next year by New Issues Poetry & Prose.
