back from Bali we make our own
shadow show — out of the
flickering my daguerreotype
cowboy in slo mo rides
his dangling head a comet
that trails slight light —
your bar girl cleans the saloon,
slops from a pail then steps in it —
her feet splash
my matinee idol, his
number’s up he trembles
draws erect and pulls a cigar —
off the smoky coast
beacons slide into dark —
you’ve had enough
and reach for the remote —
I catch your sticks…
keep jiggling