Bury me slow in a cowboy
cemetery where
the dirt
on the casket
matches the dirt on the headstone.
I want
to spend forever beside leather

bound men fighting vainly
against skies
far too pleasantly blue. When they come
looking I hope they'll find me weary
and mummified
with men of many pasts by
my side.


They'll see me
worn but fighting on. Gun at my hip
and boots given to wear
ever-etching words of freedom and lines
in the dust of battles past and after
life wars still to come. When my aching
body is quietly lined

with wood, lower me slow. Lower me
into earth of old and legends
lasting and in the land of dirt and
snow-driven beauty I'll lie
until they come
looking for the men beside and find
me instead.