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C&I's Poem of the Week for Jan. 12, 2011
Waitin’ behind the chutes on a warm Saturday night;
I drew a bull named "Dynamite".
I meandered towards his pin, to sorta “size him up”;
Then I drew a deep breath, and gave a big ole gulp.
He was a mass of beastly brahma – sharp horns and nostrils flared;
And I commenced to ponderin’ why fate had us paired.
But I swallered real hard; gave my britches a tug;
Pulled out my jaw, and tucked in a plug.
Buzzin’ in my ears was the distant muffled sound,
Of the crowd's great roar at the first go-round.
It was chute #3, where his back I straddled;
My grip was tight, but my nerves were addled.
And I couldn’t help a thinkin’ as they ended my wait;
That St. Pete might be sittin' on my next pulled gate.
With a spur and a leap, his big head spun 'round,
Like a little child's top that was too tightly wound.
He blew snot an’ slobber on my new Wrangler shirt;
And before he finished pitchin’, I was flung in the dirt!
But the buzzer had already sounded; I had paid my dues…
Tonight I snubbed out ole Dynamite's fuse!
