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Great Grandpa vs. The Last Cowboy Brian Affleck
He reminded me of a grizzled German submariner, Great Grandpa—in fact he was a diver in the Navy before he became That red-haired, rocky-eyed relic. I feared his beard. Great Grandpa was the reincarnated Odin, his secret safely tucked In those blazing whiskers and my wild imagination. Great Grandpa was an ancient form of Man, The kind immortalized in the lyrical histories of Barbarian cultures, somehow preserved In flame through the eons upon a drifting treasure ship, Searching for a willing heart to hear his songs. He shared these lost chronicles with me often, Wrapping his tongue in the tattered rug of Whiskey and bathing every breath in rusty pipe smoke. His voice sounded wars. Every word was an exploding grenade, every gasp escaping soldiers still smoldering As they ran from the stinking trench that was his throat. But Great Grandpa speared me most frequently with his battle against The Last Cowboy. In his youth, Great Grandpa spent hours sweating out West. He encountered The Last Cowboy while passing time in the shade of a saloon. This man, one of a dying breed, sang a song for Great Grandpa. The Last Cowboy hummed the saga of his questing through the untamed plains, And when his song was sung The Last Cowboy paused… “Well, that’s the end of my story.” Great Grandpa watched as the revolver was raised into The Last Cowboy’s mouth before an explosion slammed through the top of his skull. Great Grandpa watched as brain-blood spilled onto desert dirt. Great Grandpa watched as he sang me this legend. And when his story ended Great Grandpa sank, unsalvageable and unsung—nothing like a Viking hero. |
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by The University of Scranton, Scranton, PA 18510
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last updated: Sunday, 10 August 2008
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