Sky so black it shines
Stars dance and glimmer
Souls surely are up there
Swimmin and lookin down

We’re keepin warm by
Smoky’s campfire, we
call him that cause he
could make a fire outta rain

For once Lance brings ME
coffee, like an equal pardner
Took me years of provin myself
to get to this place at the fire

Not huddlin by the chuck wagon
Not hangin back like a shy kid
But ridin and wrangling with em
Sharin dirty jokes and talkin bout

women we had in Laramie, and
I had me a few; they were better off
for knowin me. Glad I cut off
my hair and bound my breasts

to assume this identity
They think I’m a him and
that’s fine with me, I was born
to be a he, Little Slim Lantree

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

Woke up this morning not knowing I’d be a transgender cowboy by afternoon, but here I am, thanks to dverse. This gal had upchucked the chuck wagon, born to ride, probably had all brothers on her father’s ranch and wasn’t going to be left behind to his devices. And the prostitutes, used to slam-bam-thanky-ma’am, were obviously pleased with her prowess… wink.  Also for the Poetry Pantry at Poets United.

This gender bender also appears at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.  Peace, Amy