Once Upon A Time In The West Poem by Louis Kasatkin

When that wind roars out of the South,
the one called the 'Zephyr',
it tears right through El Paso
with raw heat and anger;
blasting like buckshot
in saloon bar brawls,
it stampedes droves of tumbleweed
herding it like cattle;
Zephyrs sweep away everything,
except memories and their re-telling
that clatter, that chatter across
strung out continental wires,
informing city readers a day
or two later of some gunfight
someplace far away, so far removed
that the recounting of it
enobles the mythical participants;
three cadavers, wescutts buttoned
silver coins placed over their eyes,
lined-up one, two, three
for that new tripod camera,
the faces of Pat Garrett and William H.Bonney
are absent from that white & black portrait,
they got paid their double gold eagles
and rode off.