Spaghetti Western Kings Poem by Romella Kitchens

No matter how much time passes I still like
to watch the notorious men of the wild west.
the cowboy movies.
Call it an outlaw fetish if you will but,
not your Gene Autry or Roy Rogers sort of affair.
Down and dirty survivors instead.

Charles Bronson wrong and vengeful..
Jack Elam knowing in advance who will live
or die.
Clint Eastwood the casual but dangerous, match
and straw chewing, cigar coddling but dangerous shooter.

Lee Van Cleef though was always the quintessential smoking gun...
His eyes bleary from long nights of sex and bottle after
bottle of alcohol.
His square, perfect jaw.
There he was, death coming to claim you because death rode one helluva
horse and had a great sense of human
target direction...

Barquero...
The ferryman who could stare coldly at a tombstone he created at his best.