Coyotes howling at the moon above, country-western music playing as this realistic dream comes alive in the beauty of a desert evening.
Loving the ol-fashioned west where life was so simple and easy-going, nothing much to worry about, corruption being taken care of by hanging or shooting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Time to gather the posse. We will call it poetic justice.