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Welcome To The Bullpen
The Grocery Line
By Joe Owens
Standin in the grocery line
that weaved back 40 feet,
I just kept on remindin me
a person's gotta eat.
Kids a screamin at my bow
A couple to my rear
were fightin cause he broke his vow,
and bought a case of beer.
I minded my own business
a smile on my face,
but wishin I was anywhere
except for in this place.
I dreamed of greener pastures
astride a buckskin steed
chasin outlaws through the hills
to stop their evil deeds.
My hat pulled low against the sun
as sweat dripped down my brow.
I checked my colt, and spurred the buck.
A panther on the prowl.
We galloped o'er top a ridge,
and there I saw the men
who'd rob the bank in Tombstone
and shot my brother dead.
Justice was my reason.
Duty was my brand.
I felt the wind across my face.
My pistol in my hand.
The desperadoes wheeled around
as gun smoke filled the air.
I hollered, "This is for my brother!"
The grocery line just stared.
I felt a little silly
a standin at my cart.
My finger stuck out like a gun.
My feet spread wide apart
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REVIEW 1
Great poem, very well put
David
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