Ruidoso Steak-House
 
Glanced at her reflection
In the plate-glass window
New squash-blossom turquoise
Sassy Stetson
Patted 50ish blonde curls
And wished
They'd eaten at the casino

Valley of the Mountain Gods
 
Where this didn't happen
Wrinkled pretty nose

"Don't give him anything
He'll just get drunk!"

Stage whispered
To her Houston lady friend
As though he wasn't there

She was right of course
Except the old man Mescalero
Was already drunk
 
He turned away
Then turned back and mumbled
 
"Sing the Song of Life each day
Or when the time arrives you won't know how
To sing the Song of Death."

From Poems of the New Old West

Copyright 2002, Jack Purcell