cowboy fades into the background
another face on the cardboard cut-outs to populate the city
full of dustballs and cobwebs and rusty cans of beans lined on the fences
a horse made out of clay
prances into town pulling a wagon full of coal and rocks
a man with worn shoes crawls out of the cart and looks over the deserted city street
he smiles and tips his hat
to the cardboard burlesque dancer curtseying in the saloon door
and produces a wad of neatly folded bills from the inner pocket of his coat
the dancer moves not a muscle
so he sees an opportunity to advance on her without questions
he leaves a trail of dust behind him as the sun takes its typical place in honour of high noon
he stops mere inches from the dancer
and demands that he be allowed to do her various services
and mistakes her carefully drawn silence to be accordance and touches her cardboard bosom
they tumble to the floor in a flurry of passion
and as he rips the dress from her finely illustrated body he gasps to discover
that he has torn her to bits and now she floats like confetti in the empty saloon
he gets to his feet and tips his hat
he stumbles to the bar counter still in an acute state of shock
and sits in repose on the rusted metal barstools heavy with dust and ash
there is a smiling picture on the wall
of a woman who he thought he remembered from childhood
but he wasn't sure so he drew his gun and shot her between the eyes
and sauntered out the door
never to venture down that uncanny road again

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