Life Redux
Back to the Cowboy's Poetry

You might have thought that I forgot

Or, perhaps, that it was the tequila talking that night at the bar.

I did not.  It was not.

We have known each other too long, and I have come too far

To lose track of the keys to your happiness.

You might now think that I digress

Or, perhaps, read more into things than I should.

I do not, though my eagerness

To see that you act upon your need for joie de vivre could,

I confess, easily be mistaken for such.

You might protest that I make too much

Of an occasional, meaningless pang for a change of scene.

I do not; that argument’s a crutch

Propping you up against the sadness unending ennui would mean.

Now there’s a thought I cannot stand.

You must act on this demand:

Insist on drinking deep of life and tasting pleasure’s fruits.

Existence must not feel bland,

Nor daily life dulled to its deepest roots.

I will accept, for you, no smaller lot.

You probably thought that I forgot

Or, perhaps, that it was simply the liquor talking that night at the bar.

I did not; it was not;

I have known you to long and come too far

In this life’s slow regress

For you to think I would forget, or treat lightly talk of your happiness.