Cowboy

He was leaning against the wall, as long, cool a drink of water as I've ever seen. His jeans had faded and molded perfectly to lanky legs in the way that you know he'd lived and worked in them. Even from across the room, I could see the strength and hardness of his hands as he juggled his longneck and a cigarette. He seemed made for a horse's saddle. I just knew he earned those crow's feet squinting at the horizon and that he'd smell of saddle soap and sage if I got close enough. The air around him seemed charged as if he carried his own atmosphere which would always separate him from any crowd.

I'd romanticized cowboys for too long. Sick of suits and power ties, Lacoste shirts and country club pants, I'd fallen hard for cowboys. I wanted a man who did things directly, simply and for himself. Men were men though, and regardless of the outer gear, the string of cowboys I'd picked up usually treated our time together as just another bull ride. I could daydream all I wanted about someone who knew first hand that fences had to be mended, that birth was beauty and blood and that enduring loneliness can be relieved in short spells, but I was as full of shit as the movies that conned me.

This guy was dangerous, and for once I knew it. I walked past him on my way to the door, looking just long enough to see that he wasn't looking at me. I couldn't help feeling tweaked, and I left without turning around. I could be smart sometimes, but I still dreamed that night about hands touching me, calloused hands that moved with the tenderness of an expert gentling a horse.

The topic of a cowboy was suggested by Paula with the parameters given to write either a fictional piece involving the cowboy, a poem from his point of view or my perception of a long, lean cowboy with a slow smile that was missing one tooth. Joni Mitchell's Coyote filled the mental soundtrack, and the visual images included Newman and Redford as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Redford in the The Horse Whisperer, Jack Palance in City Slickers, Sam Elliot in almost anything, most of the cast from Tombstone, and I had to laugh at myself for the sudden rise in temperature. All that testosterone can have quite an effect. This is just a snippet of a story that has grown since I started this entry. I like it so much that the rest is developing offline. Paula, I owe you one, big time. In fact, I owe everybody who gave me a topic to write about. This has really kick started my reluctant muse.