Poem 22 for the ProCrasstheNation Poemvember Poetry Project is a blast from the past. Mike C. gave me the ammunition to arm this cowboy with inspiration. This poem has holes, but I think you can fill in the blanks with like experiences from your life. We all have a friend that is chill like The Big Lebowski. How they manifest over the years is fun and makes for great memories.

I give you, The Greasy Texan…

 

 

“The Greasy Texan”

One year for Halloween,

Billy dressed up like a cowboy.

A Midnight Cowboy.

 

No fringe,

just a brown-banded corduroy cowboy hat.

For good measure,

he put on a 1970’s camel colored leather jacket,

I can’t say if a cowboy ever wore such a get-up,

but it suited Billy.

 

We went to Jimmy’s aunt’s costume party.

It was a long drive to get there.

I think Bobby drove.

We grabbed road beers and those that smoked blew plumes of carcinogens out of the childproof windows, as we rolled south.

 

It was some type of hall, Elks, VFW, KofC, the bingo boards were up in the back,

and round banquet tables were set out like lily pads on a pond.

We were underage, but they let us drink.

As long as we didn’t get out of hand.

 

When we made introductions, someone asked Billy who he was supposed to be.

He grinned…

slid his hand across the brim of the brown-banded corduroy cowboy hat and said,

 

“I’m The Greasy Texan.”

 

That night a star was born.

 

The Greasy Texan made some appearances over the years, but never recaptured that true moment of being.

I often look at the clothing sections of thrift shops, to see if  I can find that magic brown-banded corduroy cowboy hat.

 

I haven’t, as yet.