The Lone Rider

Texas in the early evening—no—

dusk—it’s dusk—yes—

and the sun is setting red—no—

burning—it’s burning

into the prairie—there—

that’s what is in the west

and at the edge of just-coming-into-view

is a silhouette—no—

the shadow of a man on a horse—no—

a lone rider—yes—head down

pulled by the weight of a long journey

wanting to lie down and rest—and oh—

maybe dream a little—beep-beep—

the coffee maker is finished

the rider vanishes

the prairie—it’s just my yard

the sun—it’s just the sun

I never see his face, never see

a completed image because—

BIZZZ-BIZZZ—

get to the car, the office, the desk, the login,

I am on company time, my attention traded

away for a fair wage and a 401k,

task, and another, and another until the end

when I get to go home worn out—no—

exhausted—how about spent?—resigned?

give me a second—poof—

it’s coming to me—

poof-poof

This poem first appeared in “The Phoenix Literary Journal” Issue 65