Dear Enemy Poem by Michael Pruchnicki

'My dear enemy, my dearest foe, '
he said, duffing his ten-gallon hat,
'You and me need to chat
about the dinero that vamoosed
from the till at my saloon! '

Now this went down in a town
before streets were paved-
a time when lawmen walked beats
rousting bums guzzling muscatel.

Paw carried a Colt forty-four
as the town's sheriff
and was on his way
to Ruby Lamar's brothel
when accosted!

'My dear amigo, ' Paw said,
'Go straight to hell! '
He fired once and the loco
fell dead, a slug through his head!