Bromide Junction

Bromide Junction city Oklahoma Alt. 593 Pop.552

‘It never rains but it pours,’ he said.
The nozzle in the gas tank pumped on.
‘Still it’s an ill wind, farmers y'know…’
The rotating sign blew in the wind
open/closed; making up its mind.
‘Ain’t from roun’ here areya, I reckon.’
I searched the horizon for another car,
looked at the old guy in his bib and brace.
‘Check the oil, mister? Cain’t be too careful.’
‘Just the contents of the till’ he kept his eyes
on the hand with the gun, and nodded.
‘Not worth dyin’ for, a hunnert bucks:
and tain’t mine at the end o’ the day.’
I shot him in the head and one for luck.