Poem: "White Stetsons"

My man is around the corner 

He’ll be here soon

Nothing between us but disorder 

and the glow of the moon

in its most dangerous phase

I’ll put him down with a single shot

As long as he hears my catchphrase 

My words his last thought

as all is over and all goes dim

My true grit the last thing he’ll see

A muzzle flash for him

A blaze of glory for me

I can see those white Stetsons now

White Stetsons on the heads of men

Real men, lawmen, 

leathery with bushy brows

Men with consciences that wore them thin

Men with drawls who take the Lord’s name in vain – 

but only when justice is raped

only uttered for the USA

Cursing, yes, though not the same

As profanity crudely escaped 

I can see those white Stetsons 

filling the halls

and one on each of my arms

escorting me to a room with four gray walls

and interrogators with dusty charms

I’ll tell them I did it for love of country 

and in a manner of speaking, my queen

I’ll tell them the truth and nothing but

These men, these real men, 

lawmen, nothing they haven’t seen, 

intuition under their belts and under their guts 

they’ll know my aim was true

They’ll be kind though they’re crude

and built like sailors

“I’d have done the same if I were you”

is all I need to cleanse my wretched life 

of all its wretched failures

When they send me to Washington, DC – 

surely they’ll send me there – 

I’ll miss those white Stetsons on salty men

They don’t wear Stetsons in Washington 

Just lots of oil in slicked back hair

and maybe a fedora now and then 

They don’t have salt in Washington, DC

(though they’re certainly not bloodless)

But I forgive the pencil pushers

and the Chief Justice

They weren’t born with true grit like me