Suburban cowboy; life without horses

Suburban cowboy; life without horses

fiction
Edward w Pritchard

It was significant to feed horses it gave a purpose to my solitary life. I no longer live on the suburban ranch; there's no more long days of fixing fences or repairing the barn or raking and leveling the barnyard. Working around the ranch made me very tired. After rising with the sun, having a campfire in the daytime, heading to the tractor supply for necessities and working to exhaustion with work gloves on my tired hands performing honest work I didn't have time to worry or fret about the state of the world or the long demise of American civilization.

After a long day taking care of horses at the suburban ranch I often treated myself to my favorite meal Chinese chicken with cashews. It's not standard cowboy fare but in my cowboy boots and blue denim shirt I didn't care. Later I would sit by the fire and drink some Mexican beer as I broke small sticks up and fed them to the flames. At such times tired but still hungry I planned tomorrows lunch at taco bell and let the fire warm my weary bones.

When I took care of horses at the suburban ranch I didn't need to read stories by Melville or Tolstoy about the search for significance. Day to day labor and life's little pleasures kept me contented.

Me and the horses thrived day to day at the suburban ranch without ennui or fear and I let the world take care of itself as I went about my days. Unexpected weather, early darkness and trips into town added zest to my life when I spent time taking care of horses there at the suburban ranch. It was a significant lifestyle.
end

Searching for lost Time
a cowboy's lament

Sorrow flows,
plunging downhill
making a silent roar
voiding the songs of the world.
Sorrows pool into a stagnant stinking green pond
disappearing in the late afternoon of life.
Far off, West
the Sun disappears.
Drink beer and listen to Country blues music
and count our regrets and lament lost time.
Morning soon, feel the Sun heralding another day.
end

Feel the train, hear the train, miss the train

Powerful and intimately close thunders by the train
Moan-full the whistle warns drivers to stop their lives for an instant as the train roars off to somewhere else
shaking the ground the train flashes off with a thud
dazed by the noise the drivers dream of cowboys, Indians, buffalo, campfires and railroad trips into the past