William Lantry


I'm out here a thousand miles from my home,
walking a road other men have gone down.

You know, I've been
walking down
this road a long
time now, and I really
can't say I appreciate
the way the rain, blown
by a savage wind,
keeps getting underneath
my coat

nor was I enamored of those boys pelting me with rocks, especially not that strong-armed redhead in overalls to say nothing of that young woman who, when I smiled as I wandered by her fence flung those pork guts at my face. Too bad her aim was so good.

So when I found a live oak growing, I broke off a branch the size of a club in case that redhead returned but it did no good against that farmer's shotgun who blasted until he clipped my beard and pulled the other one, reaching my feet.

You know, I've been limping down this road along time now, and I think that Walt was either crazy, a masochist, or a liar.