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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 23, 2013

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Submitted: September 23, 2013



She was happy
to be Maid Marian
to your Robin Hood

or Queen Guinevere
to your Lancelot
but this Saturday afternoon

Janice was Mrs Earp
to your Wyatt Earp
as you shot it out

with the bad guys
at the O.K.Corall
(for the umpteenth time)

and tendered your wounds
in arm and leg

as you rested on the grass
by Banks House
you both sipping

(in turn)
from the Tizer bottle
bought from the shop

across the road
and nibbling
from the bag of sweets

she'd brought
from home
(her gran's gift

for being a good girl)
she bandaged
your left arm

with an old handkerchief
(clean and fresh laundered)
and tied her neck scarf

about your right leg
her thin fingers
moving carefully

who shot you first?
she asked
not sure

you replied
thought it may have been
one of the Clanton brothers

but I got him after
right between the eyes
you said

she sat down beside you
and took up
your silver looking shooter

and rubbed her hand
along the barrel
the other older gun

(one your mother'd bought
for your birthday)
lay on the grass

cooling down
you were quick though
she said

and I liked that
cross over movement
of your hands

when you took each gun
from opposite holsters
you smiled

glad you noticed
saw that in a cowboy film
my old man took me to see

at the cinema
you said
can I go next time?

she asked
I don't get to go often
unless it's a film

my gran wants to see
and that isn't often
Bambi was the last time

I think
she said

you said
I'll ask the old man
when we go next time

she sipped from the bottle
and gave it to you
you wiped the lid

with the palm
of your hand usually
when sharing a bottle

but with her you didn't
you liked to think
of her lips touching yours

if somewhat
second hand or such
when did Wyatt Earp die?

she asked
did he get shot to death?
you looked at her

sitting there on the grass
her red beret
neat on her fair haired head

her pink blouse
and brown pleated skirt
think he died in Los Angeles

about 1929
you replied
maybe your granddad

knew him
she said innocently
no my granddad's

not been to the USA
you said
smiling at her open face

and blue eyes
guess not
she said

are your wounds better now?
she asked
feeling along your leg

and untying the scarf
yes it is
you said

arms ok too
and so she untied
the handkerchief

and tucked it in the pocket
of your jeans
and put the scarf

around her neck
you picked up the guns
and put them

in the holsters
on the belt of your jeans
and she put the bottle of Tizer

in the bag she'd brought
and you both got up
and walked back

to Dodge City
or some such place
she with that serious gaze

and you
with a smile
on your boyish face.

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