Not that we’re looking into it,
but where have all the cowboys gone?
Seems like only yesterday…
You were putting on rubbers
behind the dusty partition
when the fame got to you,
stuffed your nostrils full of tissue,
and delivered a knockout blow
for good measure. We lost a grip
on our treasure after that, fell flat
when it came time to deliver
a knockout blow of our own.
I’m but a humble garage surfer today,
risk analyst tomorrow.
Time goes all in for a soaking.
The bag of loose ends, croaking
in the twilight. What might we learn
were we to scour its mythic bottom?
You’ll have to take it up with management.
As for the grievances streaming
through the exhibition, they’ll settle down
by the emergency exits, whimpering.