new post

Sometimes when you ain't really got nothin' new to say, you just hit "new post" and wait for the flow. Sometimes it don't show up on time so you freelance. You make it up.
Maybe you ran out of cigarettes and the tank in your truck is gettin' low. Maybe your cat gives you a look, sayin' what's up Pa. Maybe your CD player broke and your girlfiend noticed. Doesn't want to see you no more. You think about takin' up rodeo again, but you're too old for that business. Gave your riggin' away a long time ago when you couldn't get a PRCA invite. Your rope is loose and your saddle's worn. It hurts a bit. The busted neck in Bell Fourche, collarbone in Payson. Losing your best friend in Layton. Missing the cut in Pueblo. Those good rides in McLaughlin, Sundance and Lame Deer come to nothin'. A few eighties don't make a career.
But a cowboy has a job to do when he gets thrown, when his rope slips, his horse stumbles through the gate. He get's up, finds his hat, dusts it off, smiles and keeps on cowboyin'. Guess I'll do the same. Washte kolas.