Fair Fownt

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, drifting along from place to place, never noticed, never heard, never missed once I am gone again.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, ever slow to warm, ever reluctant to anger, wishing solely for solitude and my own single-minded pursuit of it.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, listening for that sound, the sound that never arrives, the sound of someone I know and love and respect, one who calls my name fondly. All I have, for the interim, is a pair of worn boots and a trace of sand in my socks, and the cold, dark night.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, sitting quietly in the light of the moon, lecturing an excited swarm of mosquitoes, all of them delighted to know me, and to listen, as long as I share my warmth with them, and my taste.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, sitting, knees against my chest, re-counting the stars. Stars — my friends, my only friends, though they never speak or ever write, but they are here with me. They are here. That is something. Perhaps all I ever will get.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy. I toot my flute, sometimes hoot, and smoke a random cigar. Alone I go, through rain and snow, still seeking what is beyond, afar. Though today I believe that I will spend my time only scratching and yawning. It is enough. At times it is.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Guess.

 

Etc...

so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals