Getting Engaged in the Gun Room of the Lafayette Hotel
by Kate Fox
Behind him, long rifles line the wall,
and the smaller weapons—the Derringers,
the Colt 45s, the Smiths and Wessons—are paired
with their bark-tanned holsters in shadow boxes
backed with scenes of the Old West. The ring box
snaps open like a shot, and suddenly it is high noon
at this table, where the world swiftly divides
into black hats and white, “Howdy” and “How,”
good and bad so far apart that not even a bullet
can bring them together. “This love ain’t big enough
for the two of us,” I want to say, but his mind
is on that long, long trail, that last cattle drive,
that moment when he will stare down
the bore of a very long rifle, and he will need
a faithful sidekick to step out in front of him,
to stand tall and take one square in the chest.
