Saturday, March 23, 2019

Saturday Matinée (Day 794)

on the screen, a standard cowboy

the quiet type, a man apart

still waters run deep, her mama said

but those depths can drown your heart


aisle seat, popcorn and soda, 

hand to mouth, of its own accord

white-hot August, cold dark theater,

the only vacation she could afford

far from these bleak, baked city streets:

windscrubbed plains and starswept nights

no memos to type, no bus to catch—

just room to breathe, villains to fight


of course she knows this is just fiction

frontier life was unforgiving

but in this quiet cowboy’s arms

life would somehow feel worth living

so she surrenders, flaws and all,

and the dream sustains when weekdays crawl

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

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