The Jungo Kid's Nightmare

The sun beats down. The wind howls.
All are dead in town, but the Jungo kid.
Through fearful eyes he glares at the stranger
Who killed his horse. His eyes narrow
And he spits venom into the dust.
His right hand creeps down to his revolver.

It isn’t there. Impossible! His revolver
Is his life, his meaning, A wild dog howls
Somewhere distant, causing a storm of dust
To whip up around his face. The Jungo kid
Is blind and limp with pain, as the narrow
Silhouette snakes towards him. The stranger

Approaches. A crested falcon swoops at the stranger,
Claws bared. His hand blurs into a revolver.
Raised in the air, the bullet escapes it’s narrow
Prison, penetrating the hurtling bird. Howls
Break out from the dog, the falcon and The Jungo kid.
The falcon shoots down, burning into the dust.

Fear fills the young gunslinger. The wall of dust
Collapses around him. He folds as the stranger
Approaches. Tears break his cheeks as The Jungo Kid
Knows his fate. "Without your revolver
You are nothing." His father’s memory howls
Around him. He recalls the room, that narrow

Chamber. The ‘lessons.’ His father’s narrow
Smile as he was taught to be a man. Face in the dust.
Belt on his back. The wild dog’s howls
Bring him back. Two feet away the stranger
Stands. From his belt he pulls his revolver.
It is huge. It blocks the sun. The Jungo kid

Remembers his horse. The falcon. The Jungo kid
Forks sideways. Spins. Kicks the narrow
Of the giant’s back, making him drop the revolver.
His own weapon then rises from the dust.
Snatching it, spinning, he fires all six shots at the stranger.
The silhouette howls, the boy howls, nature howls.

“It is morning” thinks the Jungo kid, wiping away the dust.
His eyes narrow. He remembers his quest, forgetting the stranger.
He checks his revolver and leaves. His ears deaf to his internal howls.