Hybrid Cowboy Poem by david lessard

Caught between barbeque and maple syrup,
I can't tell a branding iron from a stirrup -
Horses are foreign to me, as is a steer,
and from rodeos and cowgirls, I stay clear.

But there's something in a Willie Nelson song,
That hits at home, whether one is right or wrong -
and the melody of broken love rings through,
Of what one did, or likely, didn't do.

I'm an Easterner at heart, I like the Red Sox,
I like football and basketball and men who box -
I love the scent of Autumn leaves in the air,
The hint of Spring, with raindrops everywhere.

But then again, the desert keeps a-calling,
and there's music when the doggies are a-bawling -
When a man can find so easily, an empty bed,
With a gazillion stars so close, above his head.

That's when I become a hybrid cowboy,
That's when I become one with the West -
Two worlds wrapped in one, two men I've become,
and I can't decide, inside, which is the best.